Shadows of Doubt
by Lady Anwe
Summary: Claire is infected. Only one man has the ability to save her life. Suddenly, life isn't so black and white anymore. There are varying shades of grey between. Going to be A/U.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Infection

"Remember, be quick and quiet. We want as little contact a possible. Leave no one who has seen you alive, we want this to be effective," Chris Redfield said, briefing his team and friends again on their mission.

The people circled around him dressed in full combat gear all nodded, checking their equipment. To his left was small, thin Jill Valentine, his girlfriend. Next to her was Rebecca Chambers who was checking her field chemistry set. Leon S. Kennedy was standing next to her, reloading his rifle. His sister, Claire sat on the ground next to him. She was fiddling with her earpiece and staring off into the distance.

"Hey, you okay?" Chris said, coming over the squat in front of Claire.

"What? Oh, yeah," she smiled, brushing her vibrant red hair from her eyes.

"You sure? You know you can sit out if you wan. No one is going to make you do this," he said, looping a friendly arm over her shoulders.

Claire laughed. "I swear if you ask me that one more time, I'm going to break you leg and take over your team!" She punched him in the side, still laughing.

Chris smiled at her. "You're a dork," he laughed.

"Takes one to know one!" She stuck her tongue out at him as he stood up.

"Alright," Leon said in his deep voice, glancing at his watch. "Let's move."

Claire sobered up and slipped her handgun out of its holster on her thigh. She could already feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins as she moved quickly and quietly after the others.

The guards at the back entrance were easily dispatched as Leon and Chris neatly slit their throats. The two bodies dropped with quiet gurgles of blood. Kicking them out of the way, Leon waved the rest of the group trough the door and covered the rear of the group. There was a time when killing people bothered Claire, but the people who worked for Umbrella deserved no sympathy.

Clair lugged the duralumin case with her that was for the viral samples they were taking to destroy. She had had enough of viruses and zombies and monsters to last her a lifetime; she would do anything to stop them. She shuddered to think what would happen to one of them if they became infected.

Clearing her thoughts, she focused on the task at hand. They snuck down the halls quickly and quietly, dispatching whomever happened to see them. The group was infiltrating and ex-Umbrella lab that had failed to go under when the head company did. It was located in a remote part of India, almost in Bhutan, high up in the mountains. Leon had received a tip-off from and agent in India, telling him of suspicious activities at a supposedly abandoned Umbrella laboratory. There were reports of shipments and missing people from nearby villages.

Chris had demanded that the group investigate and confiscate anything the facility had been working on. He had a personal vendetta against one of Umbrella's top researchers and former captain of the S.T.A.R.S. team.

Albert Wesker.

Claire herself had no love for the man since they met on Rockfort Island. He had beaten her and used her to bait Chris. She despised the man for everything he had doe to the Redfields. Every time they came in conflict with him, he left them beaten and bloody, and managed to slip away unharmed.

As they stormed through the facility, Claire avoided using her gun unless absolutely necessary. It wasn't that she was afraid to use it, but rather it wasn't her specialty exactly. When they reached the main lab, all the researchers scattered like mice. Leon and Jill neatly picked them off with their rifles as Chris located the head researcher.

The man was rather chubby with land brown hair plastered to his head with sweat. Chris slammed him up against the wall. "Where are they?" he demanded.

The man whimpered pathetically. "What-what are you l-l-looking for?"

Chris slammed him against the wall again. "What have you been working on? Umbrella went under, why didn't you?"

The man swallowed heavily and cringed when Leon took a step towards him. "Alright!" he squeaked. "Alright. We received new samples of a new virus just before the head company went under." He gulped again. "We are privately funded by rich people here in India who have, um, enemies. They pay us to develop these new viruses. We have all but one of them completely isolated and controlled."

"Where are they?" Chris ground out, shaking the heavyset man, which was no easy feat.

"In the next room! But you can't open the safe!" he shouted when Claire and Rebecca moved towards the door into the next room.

"And why not?" Leon asked in his deep, slow voice, stepping closer to the man again.

"Because you aren't me!" he shrieked when Chris forced him to his knees with his handgun pressed to the researcher's head. "The safe is fingerprint coded."

He eyed Leon and Chris nervously as they lifted him under his arms and forcefully propelled him through the door. They threw him at the ground in front of the safe. He looked up at them with terror. "What are you going to do with these?" he asked fearfully.

"Get rid of them so no one can use bioweapons as a threat!" Claire spoke savagely, speaking for the first time.

The man laughed hollowly. "Noble cause, but it will never happen. There are too many power hungry people in this world. As long as there are buyers there will be bioweapons."

Claire seethed. "I don't care. Open the damn safe or I cut off your hand and do it myself!" she said coldly, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"O-okay," he mumbled at the blatant anger in the redhead's eyes. He put his hand on the scanner and nervously looked up at the assembled group in front of him, all of whom were bristling with weapons.

There was a faint click as the door to the safe opened. A cold mist poured out. When it cleared there were five different vials shaped into spirals, each one containing a different colored liquid. Four of them were marked except one. It contained a dark purple liquid, so dark it was almost black.

Chris jerked the researcher back away from the safe and nodded to Claire. She set the case next to the safe and proceeded to carefully take the vials out and nestle them safely into the case. Just as she picked up the last vial, the unmarked, unknown one, an enormous explosion rocked the building.

Instinctually, she gripped the fragile glass tighter and in her panic, it exploded in tiny fragments, cutting her hand deeply. "Shit!" she cursed, picking large chunks of glass out of her hand, not noticing the blackish liquid from the tube mingling with her blood on her hand.

"We need to go. Now!" Leon shouted as the building trembled under their feet.

Sitting on the floor next to the safe, the researcher laughed maniacally. "You think you're going to get away with my samples? You will die down here in this hellhole with the rest of us!" he shouted, his eyes glinting dangerously.

"He triggered the self-destruct system, the bastard," Jill grumbled, running for the door.

"Why do they always have to self-destruct?" Rebecca asked mournfully, following close behind.

Claire snapped the case shut, wrapping her bandanna around her bleeding hand. "I have them Chris. Let's go before this place explodes!"

"Go! Run!" Chris and Leon shouted at the rest of the team, ushering them towards the door.

Claire snatched up the case and sprinted back the way they came, cradling her bleeding hand to her chest. Behind them, the man's maniacal laughter echoed through the halls.

"Move!" Leon shouted as they came into a room full of specimen tanks. There were half-formed and mutated creatures in them that Jill and Chris had slowed down to watch.

Another explosion rocked the building as they reached a flight of stairs. They clattered up and raced down a hall that was teeming with confused and scared scientists. Chris shouldered them violently aside as they shoved down the hall. Just as they reached their exit, an explosion much bigger than before tore through the building.

No one needed any encouragement to make tired limbs move faster. They made it one hundred yards from the door before the building collapsed in upon itself with a shriek of metal. As it collapsed, an earthen wall above the facility gave way, effectively burying the flaming rubble of the Umbrella laboratory. It was as if it never existed.

"And that's how Umbrella cleans up their messes," muttered Claire darkly. The rest of the group nodded as they trekked back to their base in a neighboring valley.

While they hiked, Claire dumped her water bottle her hand, washing most of the blood away. "Chris gimme your bandanna."

"Why?" he asked, unraveling it from around his wrist.

Claire shrugged. "I cut myself when the first explosion went off, that's all. It's still bleeding but I'll take care of it once we're back at camp."

"What did you cut yourself of?" Leon asked, coming up behind them.

"One of the vials broke when I was putting it in the case. That's all. I dumped my water bottle on it and got the glass out, so I'll be fine," she said, smiling at Leon.

Leon glanced at Chris, then asked sharply, "Which vial was it?"

"I'm not sure, why?" she asked looking between the two men.

"Nothing, I'm just being paranoid, Claire," He said and glanced at Chris again.

"Okay, well I'm gong back to camp to get this bandaged properly," she said, brushing past them.

Once Claire was out of earshot, Chris grabbed Leon's arm. "Is she…?"

Leon shook his head. "I don't know. But I do know that the purple, unmarked virus was the same virus as Wesker's. Ada told me about it. God forbid that be the one the broke."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Wesker

"Holy hell girl! Your hand looks like you got in a fight with a kitchen knife and lost!" Rebecca said, unwrapping the bloody handkerchief from Claire's hand.

"It doesn't hurt, if that makes you feel any better," Claire said, shrugging.

"Actually, it doesn't," Chris said, coming up behind her and looking down at her hand, frowning.

As Rebecca washed the rest of the blood away, she was shocked. Beneath all the blood there wasn't a single mark on the redhead's skin. "Claire, are you sure this is your blood? I mean, there's not even a scratch on your hand. Are you sure you didn't just drop the sample?" she asked, frowning, turning Claire's hand over in hers.

Chris was startled but tried not to let it show on his face. "No cuts, no marks. Do you still have that bruise on your shoulder?" he asked Claire. "You know, the one from practicing with your infernal shotgun?"

"Yeah," Claire began, but Rebecca yanked aside the neck of her shirt and her eyes widened. Claire's own followed her gaze and she jumped.

Where hours before had been a livid green and purple bruise was now pale, unmarred flesh.

"What happened?" Claire whispered, brushing her fingertips over the clear skin, her eyes wide.

No one answered her and they all avoided her beseeching eyes when she looked up at them.

Leon sighed. "We don't know, Claire. Chris, can you come over here for a second?" he asked, motioning him towards one of the tents.

Chris nodded and gave Claire a meaningful look before he followed Leon under the flap of the tent.

Leon pointed at the case that contained the samples. "All of them are marked, and there is one missing. The 'unknown' virus is the one that broke," he said, running a hand through his hair. "The sample tube is the one that had Wesker's virus in it. And now it infected Claire."

Chris swore and punched the table, making the surviving vials rattle. "So now what?" he asked, his voice hard. "There's no anti-virus for this one, is there?"

Leon shook his head. "But, if you remember, Wesker had to die first before the virus could actually take over. So, if we can keep Claire from dying, maybe the virus won't affect her in any other way."

Chris laughed hollowly. "Now that we have to keep her alive, it's going to be next to impossible. She isn't going to want to go home, Leon. You know that as well as I do. If we knew someone who could make an anti-virus, then we wouldn't have to worry about it at all," he said, sitting heavily on the cot next to him. "Damnit Wesker. Even when you're not here, you manage to ruin my life."

Leon looked thoughtful. "Wesker…" he muttered. "Wesker would know the ins and outs of this virus, wouldn't he?"

"We are not letting Wesker anywhere near Claire, even if he were the last man on the planet to help her!" Chris bristled.

"I'm merely exploring alternatives, Chris," Leon said, frowning in thought.

"Alternatives for what?" Jill asked, coming into the tent with Rebecca. Chris could see Claire sitting outside in a patch of sunlight already absorbed in a book.

Rebecca looked from the open vial case to Leon to Chris. "She's infected, isn't she?" she asked quietly. "The unknown virus. Wesker's virus," she murmured, brushing her fingers over the other samples still in the case.

"Oh, Chris," Jill said, sitting next to him and taking his large hand in her own smaller hands. "What can we do?"

Rebecca frowned. "I know nothing about this virus to even know where to begin to make and anti-virus. I would need to study it for months and we just don't have time or equipment," she said sadly.

Leon put his arm around her shoulders in a brotherly fashion. "No one is blaming you, Becky," he said gently. She nodded and looked at the floor. "The only person any of us knows who has extensive knowledge of this virus is-"

"Wesker," Jill said, her eyes wide.

"But why would Wesker help Claire?" Rebecca asked, her eyes wide with shock. "For one thing, she's Chris's sister! Wouldn't he just rather kill her?" she finished in a small voice."

"That's true," Jill said. "The captain would rather kill her to hurt Chris. But even if he doesn't, who's to say that he will even help her?"

"Because he gets a new experiment," Leon said bitterly. "His is practical and won't let a healthy body go to waste. Especially since she is infected with the same virus as his own."

"its true," Chris whispered, his heart breaking at the thought of willingly sending Claire to his greatest enemy, even if it mean keeping her alive.

"Are you sure?" Jill whispered. "Maybe there's another way. Maybe someone else knows about this virus who can help us. Someone who can help Claire."

"There isn't anyone, Jill, and you know that," Chris said heavily. "Our only hope of keeping her alive is to send her to Wesker."

The group was silent for a time, each lost in their own thoughts. Claire was a sister to all of them, not just Chris.

"How do we even contact Wesker?" Rebecca murmured. "He always came to us, now how do we get to him?"

"Ada," was Leon's quiet reply.

**********************************

Wesker was mildly surprised when his phone buzzed across the desk next to the keyboard where he was working.

"Yes?" He barked in his usual cold tone.

"Wesker?" A man's voice questioned, venom in the speaker's tones.

Wesker chuckled darkly. "Ah, Chris. How lovely to hear from you again. To what do I owe this pleasure?" He could almost hear Chris grinding his teeth in anger. In the background he distinctly heard Ms. Valentine's voice say, "Cool it, Chris. Remember Claire."

The screen of his computer was reflected in his ever present sunglasses as he smiled a thin, tight-lipped smile. "The lovely Miss Redfield. How is she, Chris?"

Chris sounded like he was being strangled when he spoke. "She's infected."

Wesker's eyebrows contracted slightly, his only show of emotion. "Really now. Pity. She was quite beautiful and highly useful, dear Chris."

"We need your help," Chris ground out.

Wesker laughed coldly. "You spend half your days trying to kill me and now you expect my help? I should think not, my dear Chris. Why should I help you?" he asked coldly.

"Because," Chris paused. "Because she's infected with the same virus as you."

Wesker sat back in his chair, his hands folded beneath his chin in thought. "How did she come by being infected with _my_ virus?"

"We raided another Umbrella facility in India and the vial broke," was Chris's curt reply.

"Hmmm, how long has she been infected?" he asked in a hard voice.

"Since this morning," Chris said tightly.

"Does she have any abnormal symptoms? Aside from being infected?" he asked, sounding like he was interrogating someone.

Chris paused for a second. "Nothing we can see physically, but she cut her hand and it healed in less than three hours with no mark."

Wesker smiled a smile that only a fool would call a smile. "Well then, dear Christopher, it seems as if your precious sister will be spending some quality time with me." He chuckled and sat up again. "You will meet me at the Paris Charles de Gaull International airport in three days. Miss Redfield will be sitting on the bench outside gate twelve at exactly ten thirty in the morning. Alone. Understood?"

Chris swore. "She'll be there. This doesn't change anything between us, Wesker. Nothing. After this is over, I will kill you."

"Charming," Wesker mused, no the least bit intimidated.

"She's my sister, you bastard," Chris said. "And when she comes back, we are going to kill you."

"As you have said before, Chris. But we will see if she comes back as she left. Give my regards to Miss Wong, won't you?" he said, smirking at the look he knew must be gracing Chris's face.

"What do you mean-" Chris shouted.

"Goodbye, Christopher," Wesker said and closed his phone, smirking in satisfaction.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm sorry if I made Claire sound a little too mean. I was trying to make it sound like she was passionate about getting rid of the bioweapon threat. I still want Claire Redfield to be Claire Redfield! Sorry! I'm trying to keep the characters in character!

Lady Anwe

* * *

Chapter Three: Betrayed

Claire stared at him in horror. She couldn't believe what Chris, her own brother, was saying.

"It's for the best, Claire," Chris said firmly, as though talking to a child. "Wesker is the only one who can find an anti-virus and if he can't, well, then he's the only person who can help you."

Claire shook her head, not believing what he was saying. "I'm not infected! I'm just fine! See? No claws, no hunger for human flesh, no creepy eyes! I'm fine! I'm Claire!"

Chris looked at her sadly. "How do you explain how incredibly fast you heal?" he murmured. Today she had cut herself accidently and by the time Jill crossed the six step distance between them, it had already healed.

Claire hung her head and muttered in shame, "I'm not infected."

"I'm sorry, Claire," Chris whispered, standing next to her forlorn form.

"I suppose all of you had something to do with this?" she hissed, hurt beyond words that her friends, her _family_ would send her away. To a monster! Tears ran freely down her face, staining her shirt.

Rebecca had tears in her eyes when she answered. "Claire we can't help you. We know nothing about this virus, and we don't have time or equipment to make a vaccine! It would take months! I'm so sorry." She let her tears slip quietly down her cheeks.

"Leon?" Claire whispered. He had been her closest friend since Raccoon City, and now he was sending her away, unwanted. After all they had been through together, he was sending her away.

"I'm sorry, Claire," Leon murmured, gazing at her sadly.

"Why?" Claire whispered, gazing around at the four faces gathered around her. The looks on their faces were looks of sadness and anger, defeat, pain, worry, agony, and anguish.

"You have to be at the Charles de Gaull airport in Paris in two days. Wesker said that you should be sitting outside gate twelve alone, at ten thirty," Chris said in a deadened voice, not looking at her. "If you aren't, he said he will find you and make you into another one of his experiments." He looked up at her, his eyes pleading. "Please, Claire. Please do this."

Claire didn't say anything, but just walked past them all, her heart breaking into a million tiny little pieces. They were actually sending her away. She felt tears run down her pale cheeks unhindered as she stared unseeingly past the trees into the sky.

She felt betrayed.

* * *

The airport was packed with people arriving, departing, waiting and watching. Claire had barely talked to the rest of the time since that morning, when they decided, against her will, that she would become another one of Wesker's playthings. Chris was carrying her pink backpack over his shoulder and glaring angrily at anyone who walked too close.

"Please!" Claire said, turning and throwing her arms around his neck. "Please don't make me do this. Don't make me go with that… monster! Chris!"

Chris stared past her head, watching the planes land and take off. "It's almost time," he said tonelessly, gently but firmly shaking her off.

"Chris! Please!" she begged, catching up to him.

He didn't answer, struggling to keep his face and voice as emotionless as possible, his heart breaking.

"Chris! Please! Don't do this!" she screamed, dropping to her knees in front of him, grasping the front of his shirt. Tears were cascading down her cheeks as she stared desperately up at him.

He felt like he was watching everything happen like a movie. "Get up, you're embarrassing yourself," he said coldly. She flinched at his icy words. "If you have any love for me as your brother and your friends, you'll go with Wesker."

Claire felt like she had been slapped. As she stood, she reached under her shirt and yanked the necklace from her neck, breaking the chain. She was too shocked for tears anymore as she thrust the broken necklace into his hands.

It was a St. Christopher's charm, mean to keep her safe when she was traveling. They had matching ones and it felt like a punch to the gun when Claire gave it back to him.

She yanked her backpack from his shoulder as she stormed away towards gate twelve.

Chris watched her get swallowed up in the crowd, clenching her medallion in his fist. Tears that had been threatening to escape all day finally did. "Goodbye, Claire," he whispered, slipping the necklace into his pocket and walking away.

*****

Claire was beyond hurt. She felt like she was being abandoned when she needed someone the most, that someone most definitely not being Wesker. Her own brother just handed her over to their mortal enemy, seemingly without a care. How could he say that if she truly cared, she'd leave? Didn't they know how much she loved them? They were like family to her.

She slumped down on the bench and stared unseeingly through the throngs of people surrounding her. How dare they be so happy when she was so miserable. She pulled her MP3 player form her bag next to her and cranked something loud and obnoxious that wouldn't allow her to think.

A strange, provocative and rather alluring smell wafted past her face as someone sat next to her. She looked up to see Wesker's smirking face, completely with mirrored sunglasses. Claire glared up at him through her tears.

"Good day, Miss Redfield," he said smoothly, his voice emotionless. "I hope I find you well, all things considered."

Claire glared. "Don't play nice with me, you creep. Let's just get this over with so I can kill you."

Wesker grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him painfully. "Let us be clear, dear heart. I'm doing this for my own benefit, not yours. You will sow me some respect or I will lock you in a cold observation chamber, away from your precious sunlight. Do you understand?" he asked, his face inches from hers. A wild part of Claire's mind wondered if the man was going to kiss her.

Wesker shoved her away and stood, standing with the grace of a panther. "It's time we left, dear heart," he said coldly.

Claire stood and followed him through the teeming crowds and out into the dreary, cold rain. A black, expensive looking Audi pulled up and a man got out, handing Wesker the keys. Wesker nodded and held the passenger door open for her. Claire glared at him again, but stepped into the car, glad to be out of the rain. 'How fitting, it's raining', she thought darkly as Wesker got in the driver's side.

"Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way, Miss Redfield," he said, taking a syringe from his coat pocket.

"What is that?" Claire asked, horrified, staring at the needle in his hand. Her skin crawled at the thought of needles. How she hated them.

"The easy way," he said. "It's a mild sedative. I can't have you telling dear Chris where my laboratory is, now can I?" he explained, looking at her from behind his mirrored glasses.

"And what's the hard way?" Claire asked fearfully, afraid of what the answer would be.

Wesker smirked. "I will be forced to knock you out painfully. I'd much rather you not struggle and hurt yourself. The easy way would be advisable."

Shaking, Claire extended her art to Wesker and looked out the window at the falling rain, refusing to look at him or the needle. She felt the prick in her elbow and everything became blurry.

"Rest, dear heart." Wesker's voice came from far away. The last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was a flash of crimson eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Home Sweet Home

When she woke, she was mildly surprised to feel sunlight on her face and a soft pillow under her head. Her head throbbed when she tied to sit up, so she happily slumped back into her pillows. Her throat was dry but she didn't want to expend the energy to get up to find something. The more awake she was, the more she wished she were still unconscious. The pain of what happened washed over her in suffocating waves. Claire turned over and buried her face in her pillow sobbing.

Claire had never felt so lost in her entire life. When something went wrong or she had a bad day, she had had her brother's shoulder to lean on. Now she had no one, and the world was the more cold and cruel for it.

She was aware of someone coming in the room and standing over her, but she ignored them. She didn't care; she just wanted to be left alone, but the person had other ideas. "Dear heart," Wesker said quietly, although still coldly. "I know you're awake. I heard you moving."

"What do you want, Wesker?" she whispered brokenly, her voice rough with emotion. She flinched, fully expecting to get hit when he touched her face.

"I'm not the enemy here, dear heart." He turned her to face him. His touch wasn't rough but neither was it gently as he handled her. "How do you feel today?" he asked, examining her for any possible changes from the viral strain.

Claire snorted. "How do you expect me to feel? I'm infected, I got abandoned by my friends and brother, I was drugged, and now I'm stuck here with you for however long. How do you think I feel?" she said angrily, turning away from him.

"Watch your tone," Wesker warned, reaching down for the case beside his feet. "I need to take some blood samples from you so I know where to begin." Claire reluctantly pulled her arm from beneath the blankets as Wesker prepped the syringe and took notes. A few minutes later, he snapped the case shut with his five samples of her blood and his notes all safely inside.

"You are free to roam the apartment if you so choose, but do not enter my lab unless you are accompanied by me," he stated, heading towards the door. "I'm not the only thing dangerous here. I will return this evening. Please, do not waste the time trying to escape. Remember what your dear brother said." And with that, he closed the door behind him.

Claire whipped her pillow at the door in anger. Damn him. He knew exactly what to say to make her angry. She heaved her tired body out of bed and drug herself over to the window across the room. She gasped when she realized they were in a castle!

Now that she was awake, she looked around the room and noticed that it was, indeed, quite sumptuous. '_Leave it to me to be trapped in a castle with a tyrant. How medieval.'_ The floor was covered with a rich rug, shielding her bare feet from the cold stone floor.

She dashed for the door and yanked it open, running own the hall. She tried every door she found, both upstairs and down, to no avail. She found a large bathroom, a sitting room, her bedroom, a library filled with biology books, a large bathroom, and a small outdoor courtyard, completely walled in, and a mysterious iron door that was locked with a keypad next to it. Feeling discouraged, she decided that she needed a shower.

Rummaging through her bag, she found a clean pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. Glaring at the shirt, hating it for being black, she walked back to the bathroom that was just across the hall from her room. Now that she wasn't frantic, she saw the bathroom was quite beautiful in a masculine way. Everything from the floor to the shower to the countertops was white marble flecked with gold. The cabinetry was handsome mahogany with brass pulls. Claire couldn't see Wesker choosing all of this extravagance, but then again, the man did drive a black Audi.

Claire guessed that if she cared to test it, both the bathtub and shower would accommodate three people quite comfortably.

As she undressed, she was slightly unnerved and highly embarrassed to find she had been changed from her previous jeans into lounge pants and a comfortable shirt, none of which was hers. _Damn you, Wesker_, she seethed as she slipped into a hot bath with a blissful sigh.

***

"You truly are one of a kind, Miss Redfield," Wesker mused quietly to himself. From testing her blood samples, the virus was incubating within her blood cells themselves, lying dormant until her death, he surmised. She truly was a remarkable creature, compared to her oafish brother, using intelligence and wit where Chris used brute force.

The only sound in the room was the rhythmic clicking of the keys as he typed and the soft hum of the computers around him.

If any more of the virus had entered her blood stream, she would have mutated, unable to incubate the virus long enough for it to implant itself in her cells. Instead of merging, it would have taken over. She ended up with close to the right amount for the virus to affect her positively. Positively in Wesker's eyes anyway. He entered data into the computer, and marveled silently at his good luck. Further testing was, indeed, needed, but he had enough to work with for now.

When he came back to the apartment, Claire was sprawled on the couch reading her poetry book, muttering out loud to herself. She evidently hadn't heard him when he cam in because she jumped, knocking her book to the floor when he draped his coat over a chair.

"Hello, dear heart," she said, settling himself into a chair and opening his laptop to continue working, albeit more comfortably.

Claire sat up quickly and glared at him suspiciously. "Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked him, crossing her arms over her chest. Being near him made her feel very vulnerable and crossing her arms helped marginally.

Wesker chuckled, no looking up from the screen in front of him. "As I have said before, I am not your enemy, and therefore won't treat you as such. I have no reason to be less than civil with you, Miss Redfield. You are not your brother, therefore there is no animosity between us," he stated, his fingers tapping steadily on the keys.

Claire snorted derisively. "Maybe not on your end," she muttered, picking her book up off the floor.

Once second he was sitting in the chair typing, the next he had Claire pinned against the wall by her throat, struggling to breathe. "I wouldn't advise making me angry, Miss Redfield. You aren't stupid," Wesker snarled angrily. "Don't try me. Don't act like your idiot brother."

Claire dearly wanted to yell and tell him that Chris was not an idiot, but she didn't relish the thought of being punched by him again. And she was slowly asphyxiating. Her eyes watering, she struggled uselessly against his restraining hand, but soon gave up her futile attempts.

Wesker let go of her and she dropped to the floor in a heap, coughing and wiping her watering eyes. He settled himself back into his chair to continue his work as if nothing had happened, his nimble fingers flying accurately over the keys.

Fuming, Claire snatched up her book and stormed into the sunny courtyard, anywhere to get away from his pretentious smirk. She flopped under a tree and stared up into the azure sky above her, feeling very much like a bird in a cage. A cage with everything she needed and then some, but a cage nonetheless.

Her heart twisted painfully when she thought of her brother. She felt tears of pain and grief prick her eyes as she thought of them all sitting around without her. Trying to take her mind off it, she picked up her book and started reading again.

The musical tinkling of the small fountain in the middle of the courtyard, along with the warm sun and her emotional overload lulled her to sleep in the middle of the grass.

***

"_Chris! It's me! It's Claire!" she shouted happily when she saw him in the distance. He waved at her and started running but the closer he got, the more he slowed until he stopped altogether a short distance away and stared at her in horror._

"_Claire? Is that you?" he asked in disgust._

_She reached out a hand towards him and was horrified to find that her arms now ended in spidery claws dripping with blood. Her arms bulged with thick muscle and hard, pulsing veins. As she watched in terror, an enormous eyeball erupted from her shoulder, a sickly yellow color. She could smell him, but it made her hungry, hungry to eat him. To tear him apart, to swallow warm sticky meat._

"_Chris," she moaned in agony and pain tore through her body._

_Chris looked at her in disgust. "G-get away from me, you monster!" he shrieked, leveling his gun at her face. "I said get away!"_

_She felt a bullet hit her in the torso, and she doubled over in pain. "Chris," she whispered as another bullet tor through her arm. "I'm sorry."_

_Suddenly, the painful projectiles stopped and she was looking up into a pair of burning red eyes, and she was perfectly fine. No blood lust, no longer were her hands claws, her arms were perfectly proportioned to her body, her skin smooth and satiny. There was no grotesque eyeball protruding from her should and she wasn't bleeding from any gunshot wounds. Then everything went black._

***

When she woke up, she was once again lying in her soft queen-sized bed, tucked neatly under the covers. The shades were open to let the moonlight spill in, illuminating everything with a silver glow. When she sat up, something dropped off the side of the bed with a soft thump. As she retrieved it, she saw that it was one of Wesker's gloves, the other lying next to her on the bed.


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry it took so long for me to update! I hope this chapter makes up for it at least a little… I have a feeling that things are getting a little too out of character, wouldn't you say? I shall try to fix it, but in the meantime, enjoy!

Lady Anwe

* * *

Chapter Five: Hate

"Um, thank you, Wesker," she mumbled, looking at her feet in embarrassment a few days later. She had avoided him for two days since the dream she had happened, and felt awkward around him. She didn't know what it meant and was afraid.

"And what exactly are you thanking me for, Miss Redfield?" he asked, continuing to type, not looking up at her. His work was reaching a pivotal point and he could scarcely tolerate interruptions. The lab was busy lately, and the room in the apartment was much quieter and he could accomplish much more.

Claire shrugged, still looking at her feet, her face flaming. "I assume you brought me in from the courtyard that day, didn't you? Why? You could have just left me out there," she muttered, looking anywhere but at him.

In the last few days of him working in the living room, she noticed that he always sat in the same chair in the corner of the room. She imagined it was to mock her, saying he was right there working on his diabolical plans, and she could do nothing about it. She couldn't even 'accidently' look over his shoulder to see what he was working on because of his placement. He was coming home from the lab more often now, and sitting in his chair, working furiously. He would come home early in the evening, and sit in the living room typing until late in the night, silently clicking away at the keys. Even upstairs at the opposite end of their rooms, she could hear him typing. Eventually, it because soothing to her and she was more likely to notice its absence than presence.

Wesker merely nodded and said, "You still feel temperature changes, dear heart. The last think I need is for you to contract hypothermia and complicate my research." He watched her over the top of the computer screen. She still looked the same physically, and her blood had bonded perfectly with the virus with no negative side affects. She moved a little more gracefully, a little more silently than the average human, and he noticed that she slept less than before. But the drastic, inhuman changes were o come after her death, he though idly.

"So you don't feel temperature? You can't tell if it's warm or cold out?" she asked, curiosity getting the best of her as she sat on the couch across from him.

She was interested and that was always a good sign. For some unknown reason, Wesker felt himself enjoying her company rather than shunning it for the lab. She called it a 'cave' once because of its lack of windows and everything being a dull grey color. He had brought her to the lab three times in the last week they together, and each time, she was knocked unconscious, so as to not see where he was taking her. She always woke up lying on a sterile table in a chilly lab with mysterious scientific machines buzzing and whirring softly around her. And, as always, the steady clicking of a keyboard.

"I no longer feel temperature, true, but other, more useful senses have been enhanced, due to my 'condition'," he explained, closing his computer and setting it off to the side. "My hearing is exceptional, my vision stronger. Seeing in the dark is no longer an issue. My sense of smell is exquisite. I am faster and stronger than you believe, Miss Redfield. I am more powerful than you know." There wasn't a trace of haughtiness in his words. Every word of it was terrifyingly true.

Claire sighed and tucked her knees up under her chin. "So, I'll have all those same kinds of 'upgrades'?" she asked, finally looking at him, searching for his eyes behind his sunglasses. When he didn't remove them, she dropped her gaze to her toes. "Power doesn't attract me, Wesker," she said softly, without heat. "I don't want people to notice me. I don't want to tell people what to do. I hate it when people come to me like I'm the one in charge. " She took a breath and continued. "No offense, but I'd rather have people look up to me because of something good that I've done."

"Dear heart, you can do good things with power," Wesker said, and suddenly he was there wiping a stray tear from her cheek with a gloved finger. Claire thought for a moment he was going to hit her for what she said, but his hand was uncharacteristically soft and gently. She almost leaned into it, but then remembered who it was.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she whispered. A few more tears slid down her cheek and Wesker wiped them away as well. "You're supposed to hate me. I spend my life fighting against everything you stand for! Why? You're making it hard for me to hate you."

Wesker chuckled. "We are the only two in the entire world. I can't have anything happening to the two perfect specimens. Staying with me is your best option, dear heart," he said smoothly. "If someone else found out that you were infected, the same as I, they would strap you to a bed and stick you full of needles and cut little pieces from you, even as you beg them to stop." He watched her face as he told her this. Pain and worry skittered across her face, then sadness overtook it. "Here with me, you are free to do as you please, are comfortable, and there a few tests that I need that I haven't already done on myself."

"Chris will protect me…" she trailed off and clenched her fists as a wave of pain washed over her, more tears streaking down her cheeks.

"Chris abandoned you, dear heart. He gave you over to me, didn't he?" Wesker asked, sensing her weaknesses. He could have her for himself if he played it right. Purely on a scientific and professional level, of course. "What kind of a loyal, caring brother would willingly give his only sister to the man who has destroyed their lives? Even if he couldn't help her, why didn't he try somewhere or someone else?" He stated matter-of-factly. "He can't help you in this, dear heart. I'm the only one who knows about our virus."

Claire was silent again, painfully contemplating everything Wesker had said. Her brother read had abandoned her, hadn't he? The only person she had now was truly Wesker, and what kind of an option was that? He was supposed to be her hated enemy, at each others throats with bloodlust raging in their eyes. But Claire was finding it very hard to hate the only man, the only person in the world who could understand what was going on. Honestly, the only one who understood her. He wasn't hateful or uncivil towards her, merely a friendly indifference most of the time. And now she felt like she was backed into a corner with a horrible painful death on one side and moving in and getting cozy with her enemy on the other. Claire wasn't dumb, and she had an unbeatable sense of self-preservation. She would use every situation to her advantage.

Spending time with Wesker in the beginning had been nerve-wracking and infuriating. She wanted to launch herself across the room at him and rip his burning crimson eyes out. But she knew that he could and would kill her in an instant if she threatened him like that. She had cursed him a few times under her breath and gotten hit for it. After he had bruised her ribs the fourth day, she learned to keep silent.

Now, it was calm, almost friendly, the way they interacted. Claire respected him for his genius abilities and him actually taking time to help her. Wesker respected her space and was only ever in the living room, or, occasionally, the kitchen on the rare occasion he ate.

Wesker settled himself back into his chair minus the laptop, watching her carefully. "The only way for the virus to be completely effective is for you to die, Miss Redfield," he said, sounding like he was reading from a textbook. "The virus is now a part of your body and it only takes over once the original dies."

Claire pulled herself out of the emotional fog at his words and sighed. "So I have to do to become 'complete'? What if I don't die?" she whispered, scared of what the answer might be.

Wesker thought for a moment. "I can't be completely confident, but there is a high probability that the virus would mutate and you along with it as well," he stated, his finger idly tapping on the arm of the chair.

Claire stared at him in horror. "So if I don't die fast enough, I'm going to be more of a freak than I already am! How could you want this for yourself, Wesker?" she asked sadly, her eyes full of pain as she gazed at him. "How could you want to be so-so _damaged_? Granted, it may be stronger and more powerful, but why? Why is power so seductive to you?"

He smirked at her, removing his glasses and setting them on his closed laptop next to him. "I'm not damaged, no. Far from it, actually. I have been made perfect by this virus. Power lets me have control. Uninhibited control over what is going on around me. Power attracts me because there is always a means of getting what you want," he explained in a detached voice, his eyes glowing faintly as he stared at her. "Most people want power to make themselves seem more important in their pathetic lives. I seek power to help advance the human race."

"But why?" Claire asked quietly, hugging her knees as her heart lurched painfully in her chest. Why did he have to be so power-crazy?

Wesker chuckled darkly. "The human race seems to exist only to obliterate itself. I am seeking a way to start over, to wipe the proverbial slate clean. I will be the new creator, with faithful adequate subjects. Pease would be enforced everywhere."

Clare shook her head sadly. She unfolded herself from the couch and leaned against the open door to the courtyard. Staring out into the darkening night, she listened to the crickets chirping and the wind whistling through the trees before she said anything. "Peace would be wonderful," she murmured, staring up at the waxing moon above her. "But the price you would ask for it is much too high. Too many lives will have been lost. There wouldn't be anything to start over with. The death and pain and suffering would overwhelm those who would be left." She turned to look at him. "Not everyone is as cold-hearted as you," she whispered, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. One escaped and slid down her cheek. She turned back tot face the cool courtyard full of moonlight and shadows.

A moment later, she felt strong, reassuring arms around her shoulders, pulling her back against his chest. She shuddered, but not from revulsion. A deep part of her mind accepted his touch, as it had earlier, whispering for her to give in and stop fighting against it. More tears stained her cheeks, her eyes a brilliant sapphire with emotion. "Please don't do this to me," she begged softly as his hand gently wiped her tears away. "You're making it impossible for me to hate you. You're my enemy…" she trailed off when she was spun around in his arms.

"Then don't hate me, dear heart," he said softly. His voice was strangely hypnotic, like a snake to a bird. His hand gently caressed her face, smoothing away tears as they fell. "You're safe to be yourself here with me. No one would dare harm you."

Claire closed her eyes in pain and confusion and anguish, tears still streaming down her face. Suddenly, she felt his lips brush against hers. Barely touching, completely, unsatisfyingly chaste. Nothing more than a brush of heat against her lips.

Wesker felt a vibration shoot up his leg from his phone in his pocket. Smoothly, he let go of Claire and stepped away. Claire slumped against the doorframe looking hurt and confused, completely dazed. "Yes?" he snapped, his voice as cold as ice. Slowly a smirk spread across his lips. "But of course. She's actually, right here. Would you like to speak to her?" Wesker asked, glancing at Claire's dejected form.

Claire looked up at him, confusion written on her face. Who would want to talk to her on Wesker's phone? She started to reach for the proffered device then stopped. "Who is it?" she murmured, her voice rough with emotion.

Wesker laughed quietly. "Why, it's your dear brother," he said, watching her retract her hand as if the phone were poisonous and about to bite.

She gave him a tearful glance and a sob she had been trying to stifle erupted from her chest. She fled up the stairs and locked herself in the bathroom, feeling Wesker's burning gaze on her back the entire way. Turning the shower on, she attempted to drown her sorrow.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Anywhere But There

The water was cold now, but Claire didn't seem to notice as she lay in a crumpled, sobbing heap on the shower floor. Her hair had fallen loose from its customary ponytail and stuck to her face and arms in a limp, wretched tangle. She was still fully clothed and they were plastered to her skin. Her tears mingled with the water running down her face, obscuring her agony. She didn't know what to do. Wesker had kissed her, no matter how fleeting, and her brother had called, wanting to talk to her. One could not willingly abandon their cause for an affection like Wesker's. It wasn't even affection, more like a fondness, if even that. Why would she want to talk to Chris after he betrayed her, either? She missed him dearly, but she had been abandoned, outcast. Outcasts didn't have family.

A few moments later, there was a knock on the bathroom door. "Claire, open this door," Wesker demanded softly. Claire didn't hear him and continued to weep. There was a splintering sound and the door opened, admitting him into the steamy room. He looked at the broken figure on the floor with cool, indifferent pity as he turning the streaming, frigid water off. Not caring if his won clothing was wet, he gently scooped her up off the floor, out of the puddles, and carried her across the hall into the bedroom. She stirred in his arms as he made to lay her down on the bed.

"Wesker," she murmured, looking up at him blearily, water beading on her cheeks and running down her neck. She looked so lost and lonely as she sat there looking up at him, her cerulean eyes dull with pain and fatigue. If Wesker had any human emotions left that he cared to use, he would have felt sorry for her, for her whole ordeal. But he didn't.

"Rest, dear heart," he said quietly, setting her down on the bed, wiping a droplet from the tip of her nose.

Claire stood up again and wiped her eyes, her feet faltering as she put weight on them. She took a deep breath and steadied herself. "Could you maybe step out?" she asked softly, her eyes pleading. "I'm going to change out of these wet clothes."

Wesker nodded and said, "Let me know once you're decently clothed again and in bed."

Claire nodded in return and watching him step out of the room and softly close the door behind him. Sighing heavily, she rummaged through the dresser, pulling out fresh, clean, dry clothes. Peeling the wet stuff from her skin with a slight slurp, she dropped it on the floor where it splattered. She slipped into the dry clothes gratefully and brushed her long hair. It was full of knots and snarls from being down and swirling freely in the water. She braided the wet, red mass down her back and put the brush away.

She tried not to think about anything as she slid into bed, pulling the blankets up over her shivering body. Not her bother, not Wesker's play on intimacy, not her infection, not anything. Nestling into her pillows, she called out softly, uncertainly, "Wesker?"

A moment later, he was right there, carrying his laptop under his arm. He still wasn't wearing his glasses, but Claire wasn't afraid of his unnatural eyes anymore. "How are you feeling, dear heart?" he asked, coming over to her and setting the computer next to her as he looked down at her.

Claire gave him an exhausted, small half-smile. "I've been better," she whispered hoarsely, blinking up at him tiredly.

Wesker smirked, picking up his laptop again. "I suggest you get some rest, Miss Redfield," he said, moving towards the door, flicking off the lights.

Claire watched him leave, but a painful tightening in her chest made her call out. "Wesker!" He opened the door and looked it, framed by the soft light spilling in from the hallway. "Please," she mumbled, tears threatening once again. "Please stay with me tonight." Wesker stared at her for a moment, then came in, shutting the door behind him. "I-I don't want to be alone," she whispered, clenching her fist as another tear slid down her cheek.

Claire was shocked, and secretly pleased, that he sat down on the bed next to her, leaning against the headboard. He opened his laptop on his lap and glanced at her, his eyes glowing in the illumination of the screen.

"Sleep, Claire," he said quietly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, then settling himself into his unending work.

She yawned and rolled over to face him, falling asleep almost instantly. Though she slept, her dreams were plagued by a blonde haired, red-eyed tyrant, and a brother who didn't want her anymore.

*****

Wesker watched her sleep for a moment, her face gently illuminated by the screen in front of him. She was quite beautiful, but beauty had never swayed this tyrant's heart. She could be useful to him, yes, especially once she died and the virus took over. She would be quick and efficient, and almost immortal in the fact that almost nothing could kill her. She would be beautiful and deadly.

In her sleep she had rolled over next to him, and was tucked neatly against his thigh, her head almost in his lap. He chuckled quietly to himself as he enjoyed her warmth warming him. He would not allow her to distract him from his projects, but there was no reason why he couldn't enjoy her company. She was warm and willing to stay with him because she had no one else to turn to. She doubted whether or not her brother would take her back, and here, Claire was treated no differently. She would be his, whether she liked it or not.

He went back to typing and decided that tomorrow they needed to make another trip to the lab.

*****

"Do you ever stop working?" she asked groggily the next morning, still hearing the continuous clicking of keys. He had barely moved an inch since last night. She was also secretly pleased that he hadn't left. As her head cleared of sleep, she was nervous to find herself pressed against Wesker's thigh, her head in his lap.

As she scooted off his lap, Wesker gave her an expressionless look. "Duty calls," he remarked, closing the laptop and placing it on the table next to the bed. "You look particularly ravishing in the morning with your lovely hair, Miss Redfield," he stated smoothly, getting up from the bed, stretching his arms out with loud pops.

Frowning, Claire put a hand to her hair, and was slightly embarrassed to find that it was sticking up all over the place, her braid having come loose in her sleep. She slumped back down into her pillow when she heard him chuckle and exit the room.

There was a new intimacy between them, apparently. She wouldn't have ever been allowed to be that close to him without repercussions, and he had freely allowed her to stay there throughout the night. She rolled over to where he had sat all night and could smell the alluring scent of his cologne on the sheets. A small smile on her lips, she rolled back over and got out of bed, shoving her unruly hair out of her eyes. She actually might be attracted to the enigmatic genius and that thought both excited and scared her.

Grabbing a clean pair of jeans and a clean shirt, she went to the bathroom to take a real shower this time. Just before she closed the door, she heard Wesker's voice float up from downstairs. "We're going to the lab today, dear heart. We leave in half an hour." Claire smiled slightly and turned the hot water on, letting it pound against her skull, relaxing her like nothing else. She soaped and washed and shaved and slathered lotion on, then stepped into her clean clothes, feeling almost completely herself, never mind the blackness taking over her heart. Pulling her hair into its customary ponytail, she went downstairs to meet Wesker.

Looking at the clock, she had a few minutes to spare and decided that a bagel would be splendid for breakfast, and set about making one for herself. Wesker was standing in the doorway to the courtyard on his phone, talking too quietly for her to hear him. When she approached him, he hung up and looked at her. She was dismayed to see that he had put his sunglasses on once again. "I'm making a bagel for breakfast," she said, leaning against the other side of the doorframe. "Do you want one?"

Wesker smiled coldly. "Thank you but no," he said, going back into the sitting room. Claire followed him, a slight frown on her face.

"The whole time I've been here, I don't think I've seen you eat anything," she stated, watching him pack his laptop into a case.

"I have no reason to eat as often as you," he said emotionlessly. "After your virus progresses, you too, will no longer need to eat very often."

"When was the last time you ate anything?" Claire asked softly, her eyes wide.

"I don't recall. It's a trivial thought to me, completely meaningless; therefore hold no precedence in my mind."

She heard the toaster pop, signaling her bagel was toasted. "Are you sure?" she asked, hesitating in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Yes, dear heart."

She nodded and finished preparing her bagel, and sat on the counter to eat it, looking out at the trees waving in the breeze in the courtyard. She found her mind wandering towards her brother, and she stomped on that thought firmly, burying it in the back of her mind under lock and key. That was the last thing she needed. If he didn't want her, she didn't want him.

"Are you going to knock me out again?" she asked, frowning at him as he hefted his briefcase in his hand.

He chuckled as he strode towards the door. "Not this time," he said, opening the door and motioning her through. Claire gave him an apprehensive look and stepped through.

The hall beyond was the dull gray of an industrial building, everything monochromatic. The door to their rooms was at the end of a long, blank hallway, lit every few yards with a fluorescent light. There was another door at the end of the hall, about forty yards away. Wesker was already striding towards the door at the end of the hall and Claire had to hurry to keep up.

"Now Claire, these are my associates. Don't be friendly; they aren't any better than Umbrella was, so don't be misled. It's a never-ending, vicious cycle to be the leading researcher here. And, currently, that researcher is me," he said calmly, looking at her sharply. "They would do anything to have that change. So be on your guard and don't be a Redfield; stay out of things." Claire nodded, wondering why she was being allowed to see where he worked all day. Wesker stepped through the door and she followed, her face carefully blank and noncommittal.

There was another hallway that looked almost the same except one side was completely glass and the other had a handful of closed doors. A man in a white lab coat hurried out of one of the doors down the hall and disappeared around a corner, never noticing them, his nose buried in a clipboard of paperwork. There was a faint hum of technology in the air, otherwise it was completely silent.

Wesker motioned her along the hall and through yet another door, right, down an elevator, right, along another blank hallway, left, left, right, left, right. Claire was so lost by the time they reached their destination, she knew she would have needed Wesker to help her get back. They stopped outside a nondescript door that looked the same as every other door they passed.

When Wesker swiped his card to open the door, it was an office, of sorts. It was so orderly and neat, that it couldn't belong to anyone but Wesker himself. The desk had neat stacks of files placed on top of it. Along one wall were counters with scientific machines that Claire had no idea the function of. There was a large metal table in the middle of the room that had microscopes and computers on it. Behind that, was a smaller examination table. To the left was a large glass window with a locked door. It was a specimen holding area, she presumed. Next to the door was a bookshelf filled with biology books, many with notes sticking out of their covers, marking certain text.

"This is where you have been bringing me, isn't it?" Claire asked, running her fingers gently over the unfamiliar equipment. There wasn't a trace of dust on any of the implements, which vaguely surprised her. The air smelled stale, with a hint of disinfectant, making her wrinkle her nose.

"Of course," Wesker said, taking his laptop out of the case and setting it on the desk in front of him, then strode over to the examination table. "Miss Redfield, if you'd be so kind as to have a seat, I should like to begin."

She hurried over to the cold metal table and sat on the edge of it, extending her arm for the usual blood sample collections. There was a faint bruise on her arm from the being poked so many times with a needle. Wesker wordlessly collected his samples and packed them away safely in their storage unit. When he came back to the table, he motioned for Claire to lie back.

"What are you doing?" she asked, shivering as the cold metal touched her. She could feel the almost painful cold through her shirt and jeans. Wordlessly, Wesker offered her his black coat, and she hesitantly took it from him, wrapping it around herself.

"I am merely checking your vital signs and your body, dear heart. Don't fret," he said, passing a sort of detector over her body. The computer behind him beeped occasionally and he clicked a button or two when it did. He did this many different times, each with a different setting, before he told Claire she could sit up.

"What was all that?" she asked, motioning towards the computer from under his large coat. It confused her, and she was interested. It's not like there was much else to do here anyway.

Wesker was silent as he finished typing something into the computer, then turned to face her, leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. It struck Claire at that moment of just how attractive Wesker really was, with his perfect blonde hair, and his all black attire. "It was an x-ray and a CAT scan and an MRI all in one device. It was so I could check on your body and make sure everything was normal and behaving."

Claire nodded, sitting on the edge of the table again, hugging his coat around her for warmth. She inhaled deeply and caught the smell of his cologne again and she felt her head spin giddily. _Stop it!_ She told herself. _This is Wesker we're talking about here!_ Yes, and Wesker was very attractive and smell divinely, didn't he?

As though he heard her thoughts, Wesker sauntered over to Claire and gently stroked the side of her face. "Why do you stay, dear heart? Surely, now that you know you won't die from your infection, you would want to go back," he asked, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Why stay with your hated enemy?"

Claire was silent for a time, her heart raging against his words, but she was calm when she spoke. "I'd go anywhere but there, Wesker. No one wants me there. Here, at least I'm comfortable and I have the security of knowing you're here to make sure I don't mutate or something. There's nothing for me there anymore, apparently. If you send me away, I'll go anywhere but there," she murmured, looking up at him, a single tear slipping down her face.

Wesker chuckled and stepped closer to Claire, feeling her tense up. "I'll never send you away, dear heart. Why? Because you're useful to me in many ways."

Claire was confused. "How am I useful to you at all, except eating all the food and taking up the bed at night?" She was enjoying how close she was to him, but was wary all the same.

"I can study the virus first-hand, unlike when I was infected. I had no time to catalogue any data regarding the process and with you, I have had that chance. I have studied the way it interacted with your bloodstream and was quite surprised with what I found, but I knew it had to be the only way." He smiled and continued, now standing just in front of her knees. "Once you have died, I will be able to watch the changes take over your body and make you into a superior being, one far more beautiful and powerful than a simple human being," he said, one hand slipping around Claire's waist.

Unconsciously, Claire leaned toward him, her heart beating faster. Part of her brain was screaming that this was Wesker, that she should be finding the nearest weapon, and another part whispering that she could trust him more than she ever thought. He was arrogant and beautiful the same way a panther was. Sleek, strong, confident. If treated with respect, the beauty would respect in return.

Both voices in her head were suddenly, instantly muted the moment Wesker's lips toughed hers again. There was more pressure, a burning intensity, but still it was merely a brush of his lips against hers. She was dizzy from the seductive cologne and body heat of Wesker so near to her. This time, there was more pressure, almost lazy in the way he kissed her, his hand cradling her cheek, pulling her ever closer.

_WHAM._

The door to Wesker's lab was thrown open as Wesker easily stepped away from her to face the intruder.


	7. Chapter 7

I am ashamed and embarrassed by my horribly obvious grammar, word and spelling mistakes in the previous chapters. This is all un-beta-ed so please forgive me! I will try to make sure everything from now on is fixed and readable.

Thanks!

Lady Anwe

* * *

Chapter Seven: Sleeping

"Mister Wesker, I-" a chubby man in a charcoal business suit and a white lab coat began, not looking up from the clipboard he was reading. He didn't notice that Wesker wasn't alone in his lab like he usually was. "Oh," he said, spotting Claire wrapped in a large black coat sitting on the table behind Wesker. "Mister Wesker, I wasn't away that visitors were allowed in the labs, especially the lower level labs…" he trailed off, staring coldly at Claire, who glared defiantly back.

Wesker gave him a bitter look from behind his sunglasses. "She isn't a visitor, Mister O'Conner. She is my assistant. We were just finishing up our work for the day and were just leaving," he said coldly, crossing his arms over his chest. He was intimidated by no one, especially the soft, fat old man in front of him.

The man laughed with derision. "Since when does the loner Wesker have an assistant?" he sneered, looking Claire over with a disgusted look on his face.

"I have taken on an associate because my current research requires one, Mister O'Conner," Wesker stated, leaning against the table, looking every inch a poised panther, ready to strike.

Ralph O'Conner looked at Wesker coldly. "You may not work under me directly, _Wesker_" he sneered, "But I am still your superior. Don't forget that. Meet me in the main office in an hour. Alone. We have certain, _things_, to discuss." Once again, he glared at Claire.

"Of course," Wesker said smoothly, stepping between Claire and Ralph, effectively breaking their heated eye contact. "Until then," he nodded.

Without a word, the chubby man swept out of the office without a backward glance, leaving Claire and Wesker alone once again. "Who was that?" Claire asked, hopping down off the table, clutching the coat to her still.

Wesker looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "A superior researcher. But not for much longer," he said, motioning her towards the door as he shut his laptop back in its case and locked it.

"Is he always that much of a prick?" she muttered as she followed him out the door.

Wesker chuckled as he led the way back up to their comfortable living quarters. "Generally, if put crudely. He is worse than most of the people I ever had the misfortune to work with at Umbrella. Ever power-hungry and looking for cheap, easy ways to get money, regardless of costs to others." He pressed the button to call the elevator and glanced at Claire again, who was lost in thought, looking like a child wrapped in a parent's too-large coat.

Claire frowned when she looked down at her arm. There was the bruise there from the being stuck by needles. "Wesker? If I heal so fast, why do I still have this nasty bruise on my arm?" she asked, poking it.

"I have no idea, Claire," he said, stepping into the elevator when it arrived. "It could be that it's reoccurring every day and your body hasn't gotten a chance to catch up. By the time it heals again, I've taken another sample and damaged the tissue once more."

Claire nodded, still frowning down at her arm in silence. Wesker smiled slightly at the look on her face, then concentrated on his work once again. The entire way back to their rooms, Claire was silent, thinking things over again. She barely noticed when they stepped through the blank grey door into their kitchen, which was an explosion of color with its pale green paint. She let Wesker gently pull his coat from her shoulders as she distractedly sat on the couch, the sunset painting her face with crimson.

"I'm going back to meet with that fool," Wesker said, draping his coat over the back of the couch. "I'll be back late tonight."

Claire nodded vaguely, settling herself on the couch. "Okay. Don't kill him," she said jokingly.

Wesker gave her a black look. "Only if he forces my hand, dear heart."

Claire watched him go, then slid back into her mental confusion. For all she knew, she had no family left anymore. Her parents had died when they were younger, leaving them to live with their mother's sister, who had no taste for children. First her parents left her, then her brother gave her up. If she ever saw him again, Claire didn't know if she'd ever be able to forgive him for what he'd done to her. And Leon and Rebecca and Jill had willingly let him do it. Not only did she have no family, she had no friends. They had all given her up to Wesker, who was their enemy.

Or was he? Part of Claire still hated him for what he had done to Chris and the S.T.A.R.S. teams, to Raccoon City, to all of those innocent people. But he didn't kill anyone unless it was necessary, or he was threatened. And technically, it was a good thing that Raccoon had been destroyed. If the infection got out, the entire world would have been infected and no where would have been safe anyway. But now, Wesker was treating her like an equal almost, he was showing her respect, instead of beating her around like he did Chris. They got along and were civil to each other, and now, apparently, they were becoming intimate with each other.

That scared Claire. Wesker was supposed to be an unapproachable, egotistical, maniacal, heartless, genius bastard who wanted world domination and didn't give a damn about anyone but himself. But instead, he was simply appeared to be an ambitious researcher. He didn't act like a tyrant. Claire snorted at her pun. He was just a cold man, but underneath it, Claire sensed a heart that was even colder, but a heart nonetheless. She had never actually had a relationship that meant anything with someone and was nervous as to what to do, never mind the fact that it was Wesker, either. She doubted he was the type to go on dates and things, and laughed out loud when she thought of Wesker at a fair, shooting at the shooting gallery to win her a stuffed animal. He would be so frustrated with the silly game that he'd probably kill the person working just out of spite.

Her stomach rumbled unpleasantly, startling her out of her thoughts. Looking out the window, she was surprised to find that it was almost dark. _I'm not a tyrant yet, so food is still essential_, she mused darkly, heading to the kitchen to rummage through the cupboards and refrigerator. She came up with an expensive t-bone steak, some pasta, and asparagus. She was surprised, but pleased with her find.

One thing Claire did know how to do, besides killing zombies, was to cook. She was an excellent cook, and the only reason her and Chris had survived. Chris burned everything. Claire set about making her dinner, humming to herself as she cooked.

Some time later, her excellent meal devoured and a wish for a glass of exotic wine to compliment said dinner, later, Claire washed dishes, put them away, and sprawled across the couch again, reading a book she found in the little library about chemistry and medical drugs. She found it very dull, but seeing as there was nothing much to do, she grudgingly stuck with it. Making it to the account of combinatorial chemistry, she gave up, finding it too boring for her to fight with.

"_Finding of novel drug is a complex process. Historically, the main source of biologically active compounds used in drug discovery programs has been natural products, isolated from plant, animal or fermentation sources.  
__Combinatorial chemistry is one of the important new methodologies developed by researchers in the pharmaceutical industry to reduce the time and costs associated with producing effective and competitive new drugs.  
__By accelerating the __process of chemical synthesis__, this method is having a profound effect on all branches of chemistry, but especially on drug discovery. Through the rapidly evolving technology of combi-chemistry, it is now possible to produce compound libraries to screen for novel bioactivities. This powerful new technology has begun to help pharmaceutical companies to find new drug candidates quickly, save significant money in preclinical development costs and ultimately change their fundamental approach to drug discovery.  
__This chapter - an overview of combinatorial synthesis, including polymers and linkers for solid-phase synthesis, determination of product structure, solution-phase synthesis and applications of combichem.  
__The aim of this project is to provide a basic introduction to the field of combinatorial chemistry describing the development of major techniques and some applications."_

She flopped her arm over her eyes and dropped the book onto the coffee table in front of her, sighing. She was bored and there wasn't anything else to do. Already, she had been with Wesker for almost three weeks, exhausting anything she had to do.

Just then she heard the click of the lab door open and close behind her and she sat up. When she saw the look on Wesker's face, she physically flinched and sat up. He looked angry, angrier than she had ever seen him. He wasn't wearing his sunglasses and his eyes were glowing red, cold and hard. His fists were clenched and he strode past her without a word into the courtyard.

Hesitantly, Claire got up and made her way outside to him. He was standing in the darkening night, looking unseeingly up at the sky. She reached a shaking hand out and lightly touched his shoulder, afraid of what might happen. He was the one who always initiated the physical contact.

As soon as she touched him, she was slammed down on the ground, his hand around her throat, choking her. His knee was digging painfully into her stomach as he pinned her down, keeping her from squirming. "Don't ever touch me again, Miss Redfield," he hissed, his eyes flashing with contempt. "You are my enemy; do not get familiar with me. I will kill you and your foolish brother!"

Claire's eyes watered from the physical pain and the pain of his words. Just when she thought they were becoming friends, if that was even possible, the bond was destroyed. "Wes-Wesker!" she choked, her small hands wrapping around his wrist, trying to tug it away from her neck. His fingers were digging mercilessly into her skin, and Claire could feel the bruises erupt under her skin.

"Tomorrow, you are leaving. I will have nothing more to do with you, _Redfield_," he spat, flinging her away from him like a ragdoll. Claire landed in a choking, gagging heap some yards away, fighting to catch her breath again. She struggled to her feet, shaking and nauseous, and took a step towards him, then collapsed to her knees.

"Wesker," she choked, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. "Why?" she whispered brokenly.

Wesker didn't answer, and turned away from her, going back into the sitting room. Claire saw, through the open doorway, his dark silhouette sit down in his customary chair, and pull out his laptop, slipping a pair of sunglasses over his burning eyes.

Claire watched in disbelief as he calmly went back to work, as if nothing had happened. Tears cascaded down her cheeks as she lurched to her feet, clutching her bruised throat. She stumbled in the door and up the stairs, not looking at Wesker. Collapsing onto the bed, she dissolved into earnest tears, her sobs wracking her body. Sometime later, her sobs finally reduced to the occasional hiccup, she fell into a dreamless sleep.

*****

Wesker could hear her sobbing upstairs in the bedroom, and remained cold and emotionless. His meeting had not gone well tonight, the stupid fool wanting everything Wesker had researched. Wesker never lost control, but he was angry he did with Claire. He hadn't meant to say those things to her, but his anger had taken over, which further angered him. He had lost control of something and Wesker didn't give up control easily. His fingers clicked steadily on the keys, bare of his gloves that were resting on the table in front of him.

To apologize was to admit to his loss of control, and there was no way he would willingly do that. Still fuming, he continued to work, blocking out the sound of Claire's sobs. She sounded so upset when he said that she was leaving. Surely she would want to go back home to her brother. But then their conversation at the lab echoed through his mind.

"…_I would go anywhere but there…_"

*****

She whimpered in her sleep, a frown etched on her face. Suddenly she sat bolt upright, breathing harshly, her eyes wide. She was aware of someone sitting on the edge of the bed, mirrored eyes looking at her in the dark.

"Wesker?"

"Yes, dear heart," he murmured quietly. He reached out and stroked the side of her face, making her flinch. After what happened that evening, Claire expected him to hit her again. "I'm not going to send you away. In fact," he said quietly. "I won't let you leave. You are still useful to me."

Claire looked at him, sitting up in bed. Hesitantly, she reached up and took off his sunglasses, afraid he might retaliate violently. His grip on her cheek tightened slightly as she set them aside and looked up into his burning eyes. "Please don't sent me away," she murmured, still afraid he would. "Chris thinks I'm a monster," she whispered fearfully.

"You are not a monster, nor am I. We are simply a man and a woman," he stated, sliding his hand behind her head as his lips pressed against hers. Claire's arms slowly slid around his neck as he kissed her slowly, methodically. His lips were firm and warm against hers, making her head spin with pleasure. There was too much calculation in his kiss to make it completely genuine, but Claire could have guessed that Wesker had kissed very few women.

With gentle pressure, he pushed Claire back against the pillows, never breaking the contact between their lips. His hand slid through her hair, brushing it off her face as his lips trailed down to her still bruised throat. Claire flinched when he brushed against a particularly painful mark, making him pause momentarily. Her eyes were slits, the blue burning brightly under Wesker's ministrations.

"Is this your way of an apology?" Claire whispered without heat, unconsciously baring more of her throat to his attentions. She ran her fingers through his blonde hair, effectively destroying his perfect picture of calm.

"Mmm…" was all he said as he continued to caress her pale, damaged skin. He kissed her lips again, slowly, savoring the feel of her against him, then pulled away, watching her face. She was confused and dreamy still, her eyes unfocused. Smirking, he sat on the other side of the bed, still observing Claire's reactions.

"Why me?" she whispered, watching him lay on his side, his head propped up on his hand, facing her. She was still confused as to why Wesker would do this to her. She was supposed to be his enemy, and here he was being nice to her, seducing her. He had actually apologized, although he had said no words.

"You are useful to me, and, I've become quite fond of you," he said and chuckled. "After you change, ask me again why I keep you around."

Claire nodded sleepily, snuggling down into her blankets and pillows. Yawning widely, she murmured, "Good night, Wesker." Within moments, she was asleep, soundly dreaming. Wesker smiled slightly at her, and turned over himself to stare up at the ceiling.

Why did he keep her around indeed? He knew that once she transformed, she would be almost as powerful as himself. If she was on the wrong side, she would be a threat to him, but if she were here with him, on his side, she would be a strong ally. He needed her strength and skill to help him make his projects and plans successful. There was no way he was going to let any one else have her either. Because that meant that they would know how to control Wesker from studying Claire. And control was not something he gave up without one hell of a fight.

Having not slept since before Claire came to him, he decided a mental break was in order. He didn't need sleep every night like a normal human being, because he was so much more than a human being. The virus made his body so that it no longer demanded sleep or food everyday. That was why he could get so much work done. Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the pillows, being lulled into unconsciousness by the soft sound of the beautiful woman sleeping next to him.

*****

The next morning, Claire woke earlier than she normally would have. She was aware of a warmth pressed against her back. She wriggled around to see Wesker's back was pressed against hers, and he was sound asleep. Claire was amazed at how-_normal_ he looked when he slept. His blonde hair wasn't slicked back and fell around his face gently. One arm was tucked under his head, the other under his cheek. He looked so innocent to her that she reached out and brushed an errant lock of hair off his forehead, smiling gently.

_Good lord, I'm fond of him too._


	8. Chapter 8

I am now the proud owner of a black kitten with golden eyes, whose name is Wesker! Wessy for short; she's female lol. Not sure how the real Wesker would enjoy that. :P

Just so I don't get too many flames, I did warn there would be slight 'out of character-ness'. Please don't flame. If you do, I shall roast wieners! Enjoy!

Lady Anwe

* * *

Chapter Eight: Savior

Weeks had gone by since Claire had woken up to find Wesker sleeping so angelically next to her. They were becoming closer, Claire occasionally initiating physical intimacy between them and completely startled Wesker when she boldly removed his laptop from his lap and replaced it with herself, kissing him soundly one day when he hadn't talked to her. His glasses had fallen off and he had stared at her like he hadn't seen anything quite like her ever. With a smug look, Claire had sauntered off afterward, quite sure she was the only person to have ever ruffled his proverbial feathers.

Claire's days were filled with reading, cooking, and talking to Wesker in his free time, which wasn't often. She liked to discuss her 'condition' with him to see if she was behaving normally and if she had anything to worry about. She never did and Wesker eventually got tired of telling her the same. Soon he came home from lab, and before Claire could even open her mouth to ask, he would tell her that she was perfectly fine and that her body was behaving like it was supposed to be.

Wesker went to the lab almost every day to work and came home in the evenings. _Almost like a real couple, huh_? She asked herself blithely, then squashed the thought. They weren't a couple, were they? She didn't let herself think about it. She was sitting on the couch when Wesker's phone vibrated across the table between them and Claire looked at him over the top of his book.

Wesker's naked red eyes flashed to her before he opened his phone to answer it, his brow furrowed slightly. Claire was confused, but tried not to listen in on his conversation. She thought it odd that he didn't leave the room like he normally did, instead holding his phone call in front of her. Her heart lurched when she heard Wesker answer.

"Chris," he said, his eyes flicking once more to Claire. He paused, listening. "Interesting. Are you certain? She is truly sitting right here, in perfect health in front of me." He paused again. "If you insist. Goodbye Christopher." He snapped the phone shut and looked at Claire who was determinedly not looking at him.

"That was your brother, dear heart, obviously."

Claire nodded, her eyes fixed on one word on the page in her book, her hands shaking. _Betrayal_. She could feel tears of anger, pain and, surprisingly, hatred, welling up behind her lashes. "He didn't want to talk to me."

"Indeed." He set his laptop to the side and folded his hands under his chin watching Claire stared fixedly at the word in her book. "He called to check on you." He watched her face pale then flush darkly, her eyes darkening with emotion.

"Called to ask if I have turned into a monster yet," she muttered savagely, her cheeks stained red with emotion, her blue eyes flashing dangerously. Her hands shook slightly as she clenched the book tighter, crinkling some of the pages.

Wesker chuckled humorlessly at that. Undoubtedly that was the real reason behind Chris's phone call, but he played the part of caring, devoted older brother well. He was surprised Claire hadn't demanded the phone away from him to talk to her brother. Surely she wanted to talk to him, but it made no difference to Wesker either way. He, for one, would rather she stayed unattached and on his side. He admired her beauty and impending strength. Claire was faithful to herself above all else, much the same as Wesker, minus his lust for power.

As the day progressed, Claire remained quiet and hidden, not her usual inquisitive, bubbly self, her eyes downcast. Wesker noted her lack of energy and thought she was more attached to her damnable brother than she let on. "What seems to be troubling you, dear heart?" he asked later, already knowing what the answer would be, but wondering whether or not she would voice it out loud.

Claire looked at him was dark, pained eyes and plastered a fake smile on her porcelain cheeks. "Nothing. I'm fine," she said a little too forcefully, her smile a little too fake.

Wesker stepped up next to her and grasped her chin with his fingers, gently turning her to look him in the eye. "Don't lie to me," he said quietly, his eyes flashing.

Instantly, Claire's face crumpled, showing him her true emotion. "He didn't want to talk to me," she whispered, gently pulling her face away from him and looking down at his shiny boots. "I guess he truly doesn't care what happens to me." She wrapped her arms around herself as if she was cold and rested her head on her knees, still staring at Wesker's glossy boots.

Wesker said nothing, and sat down next to her. Slowly, Claire leaned over and lay against his chest, soothed by his warmth and sensual cologne. After a time, his bare fingers stroked through her hair, his fingernails gently scoring her scalp and the back of her neck. Sighing, she snuggled closer and wrapped her arms around his waist, closing her eyes. Wesker quirked an eyebrow at her but didn't disturb her.

It felt good to have her there with him. Her warmth and softness were a breath of fresh air from the stuck-up, competitive researchers he was surrounded with every day. She talked to him like they were both normal human beings, not like she was afraid of him. She touched him subtly, a hand gently laid on his arm, a hug, a soft kiss on the cheek, or a hand placed on his knee. She shattered the sturdy walls he had built to keep people out of his life and out of his way without even trying. No, he didn't need her; he would never need anyone, but he enjoyed her being there.

A soft snore alerted Wesker that the woman on his lap was sleeping, comfortably wrapped around him. His eyes softened slightly as he disentangled himself from her arms. Gently, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her up the stairs to the bedroom. He deposited her on the bed and tugged the blankets up over her prone body and she snuggled into the pillows deeper, unconsciously pulling the pillow Wesker occasionally slept on over under her cheek and sighed. He settled himself on the other side of the bed, and Claire snuggled against his thigh again. A smirk on his face, he was content to watch her sleep.

*****

When Claire woke, she was surrounded by the smell of Wesker, but he himself was nowhere to be found. Assuming he had gone to the lab again, she took a shower. She still felt depressed about Chris not wanting to talk to her, so she decided that she needed something to cheer herself up. Suddenly, she knew instantly what she wanted to do.

Make chocolate chip cookies!

They were her favorite, and for some reason, all of the ingredients were available as well. She had found them all when she had ransacked the kitchen to inventory everything accessible. Her mood incredibly lighter, she finished her shower and went down to the kitchen to begin making herself feel fantastic.

Claire needed no recipe for making them, having memorized it when she learned as a child. If she tried, she imagined she could make them in her sleep. Pulling out a bowl and wooden spoon from their respective drawer and cupboard, she put the first half of the ingredients in the bowl and mixed them together, stirred in the eggs, then added the rest of the ingredients. She snatched a few chocolate chips from the bag as she poured them into the bowl.

When she put them in the oven to bake, she sat on the counter happily licking the spoon clean and enjoying a glass of cold milk. Every ten minutes she took out the pan and put a new one in, making about three dozen cookies for herself. Humming happily to herself, she washed the dishes and put them away, the house still full of the wonderful smell of cookies.

A pair of warm lips pressed themselves to the side of her neck as she stood up from putting the pans away.

"Wesker," she breathed, a small smile gracing her lips, leaning back against his chest.

He chuckled, his hands on her hips. "I see you've been busy, dear heart. What did you make?"

Claire giggled. "I made chocolate chip cookies! They always make me feel better and I was still upset from yesterday."

"So you're better now?"

"Yep!"

Reaching out, Wesker stole a cookie from off the counter and ate it, surprising Claire. She laughed, tears coming to her eyes. "I would have never thought the great terrifying Wesker would be eating chocolate chip cookies!" She leaned against the counter, watching him eat it, her eyes dancing merrily.

Wesker chuckled. "Just because I don't need to eat doesn't mean I have forgotten the pleasures of it," he said, swiping another cookie. As he finished it, he smudged chocolate on the side of his mouth, apparently not noticing it.

Claire's eyes were drawn to the drastic, delicious contrast of the dark chocolate and his pale, alabaster skin. Claire drifted forward like she was in a trance and reached up, oh so carefully licking the offending stain from his cheek. Her eyes were dark with desire. Wesker's own eyes widened behind his sunglasses, which were then thrown on the counter behind him. Instantly, his lips were on hers, devouring her with the taste of chocolate. His fingers plunged deep into her hair, pulling it free from its bindings. Claire's arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to her body.

His lips slid down her neck, gently biting the cord that went from her neck to her shoulder, making her squirm with pleasure. Her hand clenched in his perfect blonde hair when he pulled her hips closer to him, his velvety tongue tracing a path up her neck.

Wesker picked her up and they were moving; up the stairs and into the bedroom where she was deposited onto the bed again. He stared down at her with burning red eyes, then was kissing her again. Claire slid her hands through his hair again, effectively ruining its perfection. With nimble fingers, he undid the buttons to her shirt and slipped it off her shoulders as her smaller hands slipped under his own shirt.

"Wesker," she whispered, pulling him down on top of her. He kicked his boots off and stretched himself over her body, his lips caressing her face. His fingers whispered down her sides, softly flickering over her skin. Claire deepened the kiss, cradling his face in her hands, her tongue sliding against his. His hands slid over her bra-clad breasts in response, making her arch against him. Wesker delighted in the way he could make her do exactly what he wanted, but also let himself enjoy just being with her. She was willing and warm and alive beneath him, thrilling to his every touch.

Suddenly, Claire stiffened beneath him. Pulling back to look into her azure eyes, he saw a troubled look on her face. She looked frightened, confused, and aroused all at the same time. She flinched when Wesker reached up to stroke the side of her face. "What have I done?" she whispered, horrified, not caring that she was sitting there in her bra and jeans. "What will Chris think?"

Wesker abruptly stood up and straightened his shirt and hair, his face emotionless. "Your brother obviously doesn't care enough as to demand to see you. He hasn't talked to you in more than a month and yet you still cling to him like a security blanket," he said coldly. "Either forget about him as he has so obviously forgotten about you, or you will never be content again." He marched to the door then turned to look at her, his eyes cold. He stared at her for a moment with a cold expression on his face, then stepped out the door and shut it behind him.

Claire turned over and buried her face in her pillow, hot tears of embarrassment and guilt soaking into it. So much for feeling better. Drying her eyes on her damp pillowcase, she picked up her book from the desk next to the bed and headed out into the courtyard, hearing the metallic click of the lab door closing on her way. She sighed and made herself comfortable under a tree in the sunshine, immersing herself in the faux utopian world of her book.

*****

Wesker snatched his briefcase up from the couch and strode towards the laboratory door, punching in the activation code as he went. His almost silent footsteps echoed loudly in his inhuman ears, his eyes flashing with annoyance. Even when the stupid man was a thousand miles away, he was still causing problems for Wesker. Damn him for being her brother. Why couldn't they be siblings who didn't get along? It would make his life much easier at this point.

He pushed a door open and was stopped by a crowd of lab coat-wearing scientists all cluttered in the hallway, milling around like lost sheep. Once they spotted Wesker, however, they scattered to all directions, vanishing behind doors and down hallways. Just because he wasn't their superior didn't mean he didn't instill fear in them. He swept down the hall without looking at them, and stepped into the elevator to bring him down the twelve floors to his research lab.

Unlocking it, he stepped inside and could instantly tell that someone had been in there. The only person who had access to his lab, besides him, was Mr. O'Conner, who was the head researcher for that particular compound. As his crimson eyes swept over the immaculate room, there were things out of order. The paperwork on his desk had been rifled through, and put back in what the interloper thought was the exact location. One file didn't belong in the stack that it was in, and belonged in the one on the table with the microscope.

His nostrils dilated and he could detect a faint smell that didn't belong to himself, Claire or Mr. O'Conner. Neither did it smell like the disinfectant used to clean everything. It was the vague smell of gunpowder and rubber, neither of which were located in his lab. He booted up the computer that was located in the room, and could tell that it had been hacked. Had he been anyone less that Albert Wesker, he would have missed the subtle glitches in the program that were a result of being hacked and copied. He frowned slightly, the computer screen flashing across his sunglasses as his fingers clicked across the keyboard. The only thing that computer contained was general, basically useless research; nothing that Wesker needed or cared about. Everything that had any importance was on his laptop, safely locked and taken with him everywhere.

A shrill shriek of an alarm cut through the almost silent air, the red lights of an evacuation smearing across the wall above the door. Wesker swore and punched the power switch off. He snatched up his briefcase as he took off at a run up twelve floors to get to Claire before the countdown ran out. Frightened scientists in flapping lab coats ran through the halls, some screaming, some sobbing, but Wesker charged past them all, knocking a few over in his haste.

"Five minutes until complete detonation. Please move to the evacuation terminals. Five minutes until complete detonation," the cool, almost seductive female voice stated robotically. Why did they all sound the same? Did they just have some woman repeat the same thing and sell the recording to compounds around the world? Wesker's eyes flashed in annoyance.

He slammed through the door to their apartment to find Claire standing in the kitchen with her backpack slung over her shoulders, looking shaken but determined.

"Wesker, what-" Claire began but Wesker grabbed her hand and yanked her back through the door to the lab.

"This facility has been infiltrated by someone. Somehow, they've set the self-destruct sequence," he said as they ran down the hall, Claire almost drug by how fast Wesker was moving.

"Three minutes until complete detonation. Please move to the evacuation-" the female voice cooed again

Claire glared at it, extending her middle finger towards the nearest speaker. "Screw you," she huffed, trying to keep up with Wesker.

Suddenly, a door in front of them slammed open and a monstrous shape pelted out of it, ricocheting off the opposite wall. It was at least eight feet tall and Claire thought it vaguely resembled Birkin's transformation, although it didn't have an eyeball protruding form its shoulder. It swiveled around and stared at them with baleful eyes. They were an acidic green, its skin a mottled brown and grey, stretched too tightly over bulging, grotesque muscles. It had a tail that swept the ground behind it, long and thin. When the creature whipped its tail towards them, it cracked in the air, frightening Claire.

Wesker whipped out his pistol and pounded three bullets squarely between its disturbing eyes, but it didn't phase the creature at all. It whipped its tail around again and caught Wesker across the chest, a thin line of blood appearing, his glasses shattering against the wall. Claire stepped back and ducked as a monstrous clawed hand swept towards her. Wesker caught the hand and used it to pull the creature off balance, tripping it with its own tail. But in catching the hand, he had dropped his gun. Snatching it up, Claire stepped closer to the creature and loosed a bullet into its eyeball. It exploded with a squelch and collapsed, trapping Wesker under its bulk.

"Damn!" he swore, shoving the dead carcass off him, its slime mixing with the blood that had poured down his chest. There was only a pink line there now. Claire ignored the disgusting feel of the creature's dead skin, and helped heave the monster off him. As he stood, he nodded towards Claire. "I thank you, Miss Redfield."

The ceiling, weakened by the creature's massive bulk being thrown into, started to cave in. Screeching metal and brick toppled from the wall and ceiling as Claire dove out of the way, away from Wesker. Looking up and back towards the cave in, she saw with horribly sharp clarity a metal beam falling down in slow motion and she watched with sickening dread as it slammed through her leg just above her knee. The pain was instantaneous and excruciating as it tore through skin, tendon and bone, then back out again, pinning her to the floor. Claire screamed in agony as the instant shock tore through her body.

Wesker heard her scream behind the rubble, and his eyes flashed in anger. She wasn't supposed to die, not yet, anyway. "Claire!" he shouted, smashing a large chunk of cement with his fist in anger.

"My leg," she said, her voice faint and Wesker could hear the blatant pain in her voice as well. "There's a piece of steel through my leg," she whimpered. He heard a faint rustling noise then Claire gasp in pain again.

Lifting steel wall joists and large pieces of cement out of his way, Wesker slammed through the last large piece of cement and found Claire lying in a growing pool of her own blood, her eyes glazed with pain. A steel rod had come down through the ceiling and pierced through her leg, pinning her to the floor. Claire looked up at him feebly. "Wesker…" she whispered in pain.

"Hold on, dear heart," he muttered. Reaching out, he snapped the bar in half, but in doing so, made Claire scream with pain again. With one swift movement, he yanked the bar from her flesh. Claire slumped back on the floor, unconscious from pain and blood loss.

"Sixty seconds until complete detonation. Please move to the evacuation terminals. Last terminal leaving in thirty seconds. Sixty seconds until complete detonation."

Wesker growled in annoyance as he cradled Claire to his chest and ran towards the last terminal. Her blood was warm and wet against his chest where the creature's tail had cut him. She healed fast now, but not fast enough to keep her from bleeding out unless he did something. Running faster, he slammed through the door that led to the evacuation terminal. All the terminals really were was industrial sized elevators that moved twice as fast as a normal elevator. As he slammed through the door to the elevator, he noted that there weren't any more people running towards them, towards the terminals. He smashed his fist into the button to activate the lift and they were off, up toward the surface. Deep beneath his feet, he could feel the beginning rumble of the beginning detonations.

Gently he laid Claire down on the floor and took her over shirt off, ripping it into a makeshift tourniquet. He wrapped it around her thigh, tying it tightly, leaving Claire in her white tank top. Gently, he shifted her to lean against his chest as he waited for the lift to bring them to the surface as an enormous tremor ripped through the building beneath them.

Through the pain and unconscious fog, Claire was away of being held tightly in someone's black clothed arms.

* * *

Sorry for how long it's taken me to write and upload this chapter. I've had family over for the last few weeks and they are very... trying. So, I apologize for the lateness, and no, I have most definitely not abandoned this story.

And, just in case anyone wants it, I can post the recipe I had in mind for Claire's chocolate chip cookise, just in the off chance someone might want it.

Thanks for reading!!!

Lady Anwe


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Paradise

The final countdown started as soon as their lift reached the top. Wesker glared at the speaker above him when it announced they had twenty five seconds with which to run down two more hallways and up a flight of stairs out into the midnight darkness. Already running twice as fast as the fastest human being, he barely made it out the door and a hundred yards beyond when an almighty rumble came up the shaft behind them and along the corridor. He stumbled into the wooded area around them, almost dropping the unconscious Claire, as the blast destroyed the shack that had disguised the laboratory entrance in the middle of nowhere.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Wesker gently set Claire down in the grass and dialed a number. "Yes, it's me. We need an evacuation helicopter sent to these coordinates." He listed a longitude and latitude. "Now. Don't question me; you aren't paid to ask questions," he said coldly, his voice sharp with annoyance.

Snapping the phone closed, he slid it back into his pocket and examined Claire's leg. It had stopped gushing blood and looked old instead of freshly damaged. The skin and muscle was slowly beginning to heal itself, the fragmented bone having already pulled itself together. He tugged the tourniquet off and tossed the bloody cloth away. Claire was pale from the pain and the exertion her body had used to heal itself so rapidly. She shivered, so Wesker held her closer, trying to keep her warm with his own body heat.

Twenty minutes later, the faint beat of a helicopter could just be made out, steadily growing louder.

*****

When Claire woke up, she was aware that it was very warm and humid. There was a slight breeze carrying the scents of exotic flowers and the ocean. She sat up quickly, her red hair blowing slightly in the breeze, covering her face. Shoving her hair out of her face and the blankets off her legs, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, noticing that she was wearing a rather see-through and revealing night gown. As soon as she put weight on her legs, her right leg gave out beneath her and she clutched at the blankets behind her to catch herself.

Hiking the dress up, she examined her leg. Someone had wrapped it in white gauze and there was a faint yellowish stain on the wrappings. Concerned, she unwrapped the bandage and found an old wound, almost healed. There was a large scar there, thick and jagged, but it looked almost healed. Deciding not to wrap it again, she stood up and gingerly put weight on it. Once she was satisfied that she could walk, although with a limp, she walked across her room and out onto a balcony.

Claire gasped at the sight that met her eyes as she leaned on the railing. The clear blue ocean stretched out before her as far as the eye could see at the bottom of the cliff below her. There were wild blossoms blooming on vines trailing from trees and rocks, filling the air with their fragrance. It was like paradise.

"If you lean over any farther you're going to fall, dear heart," a cold voice said behind her. Spinning around, Claire saw Wesker leaning lazily against the doorframe. His black attire was a huge contrast against the white walls and floors, and just the general brightness of the area.

Claire smiled a little shyly. "Hi to you too, Wesker." She turned to look out at the ocean beneath her feet. "Where are we? On an island somewhere?" she asked, enjoying the warm breeze across her flesh.

Wesker stepped up next to her, surveying the ocean with little interest. "Yes. This is the island that was given to Birkin as a retreat lab by Umbrella since he was the head researcher, but he was always too engrossed in his lab work at the Umbrella lab to use it. I have commandeered it, seeing as no one else has any further use for it," he said smoothly, his face blank, his glasses in place.

"It beautiful. Are we the only ones here?" Claire breathed, still drinking in the sights, sounds and smells. Wesker said nothing but nodded in response. "So what happened at the other facility?" she asked nonchalantly, leaning back on the railing to look at Wesker.

Wesker was silent for a moment before he answered. "Apparently someone was looking for something I was researching. The computer in my lab had been hacked and copied. Whoever it was had triggered the self destruct on their way out, which then led to our little incident," he said, turning to face Claire.

"Was anything important on that computer?" she asked quietly, searching his face, unable to sense his emotions.

"No. Everything that was important is on my laptop, somewhere no one else has access to. Everything that was on that computer was insignificant data; nothing of any use," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at her over his sunglasses. "Now, I have work to do so I shall leave you to your own devices, dear heart. You have complete freedom of the island, but again, do not come into my lab unless you are accompanied by me. Understood?" he questioned firmly, reaching out to stroke the side of her cheek with his bare hand.

Claire nodded and boldly turned her head to kiss his hand, blushing slightly. Wesker smirked and strode back through the door, disappearing inside the house. She smiled at being free in the sunlight. Not caring she was still in her night gown, she walked the length of the balcony, her leg growing stronger and less shaky.

At the end of the balcony was an iron spiral staircase leading to a patio and an arched walkway draped with flowers and vines. Claire wandered the path, humming to herself, picking flowers and making a bouquet. The walkway opened up onto a white, sandy beach. Giggling to herself, she ran out to the water's edge and splashed in the warm water, delighted.

The water was crystal clear and warm. She could easily see the sandy bottom of the little lagoon, with bright splashes of coral and rock dotting the ground. Tiny fishes darted through the water, shimmering slightly in the light. Claire waded out until the water reached her knees and relished the feel of the cool water against her warm skin. Squinting from the bright sun, she saw that the beach was completely enclosed by two arms of rock protruding out into the water, sheltering the bay from the waves and strong wind.

Claire sat down on the beach in the shade of a coconut tree, stroking the soft petals of her flowers happily. She gazed dreamily out over the tranquil waters before her, lost in thought. How long had it been since she had talked to her brother? At least a month, right? Apparently he wasn't missing her. The few times he had called Wesker, he hadn't demanded that Wesker hand over the phone. Claire wasn't going to give in; she never did, especially when it came to her brother. He wouldn't win and she wouldn't cave.

In her contemplations, she had tugged the light blue petals from the stem and was now sitting in a nest of pale blue, holding a handful of bright green stems. Slightly disgusted with herself, she stood up and brushed the petals from her dress, dropping the damaged stems to the ground. Looking out over the water one last time, she turned and headed back towards the house, feeling slightly downtrodden.

As she moved from the bright sunlight to the cool of the downstairs living room, pain tore through her body, her vision doubling. All she could do was double over in pain and moan quietly. She collapsed to her knees, hugging herself. It was as if she had swallowed worms of fire and they were now twisting in her guts, burning their way free. Pain ripped down her arms and legs, making her sweat and shake convulsively. Her ears were ringing with the sound of screeching metal, but there was no metal around her, only the subtle, quick _snick_ of a door being closed.

"Claire?" A voice asked, concerned when they found her on the floor convulsing. Wesker's smooth voice cut through the pain like a leaf through water.

Claire screamed in agony. "It hurts! It's burning! Ah! Wesker!" she pleaded, tears pouring down her pale cheeks. "Help me!"

Wesker knelt next to her, pulling her back into his arms to examine her. Behind his mirrored glasses, his eyes widened in concern when he found pale green lines spidering across her skin. As he watched, the lines grew darker and thicker. Her skin started taking on a green hue, her eyes already changed to a bright emerald green. No one had that color eyes naturally, so bright they were, and slitted like a cats' and his own.

"Dear heart, you're mutating," Wesker said, matter-of-factly. "There's only one way I can help you."

"DO IT!" Claire screamed, clenching her fists so hard her knuckles cracked and blood oozed from between her straining fingers. Brushing hair from her face, Wesker found blood also trickling from her ears.

"Claire, I have to kill you; it's the only way to stop the mutation. Do you understand?" he asked, throwing his glasses away from him and gripping her face to make her look him in the eye.

"Just do it! Please!" she begged. She arched in pain, her throat straining against the scream that threatened to be ripped from her.

Curling one arm around her shoulders and holding her down, Wesker curled his other fist into a claw and slammed it through Claire's stomach, just beneath her breasts. Her eyes widened and she screamed as her life's blood was pumped from her body, splashing across the pale tile floor and across Wesker's face as he stared down at her, his brows furrowed slightly. Rhythmically, the blood drained from her, creating a pool of warm stickiness.

Suddenly, the pain was gone. It was becoming darker and she felt incredibly tired. Her eyes drifted shut as she lost consciousness.

Claire Redfield was dead.

Gently picking her up, Wesker carried her to his lab and laid her on the examination table. Wiping the blood from his face, he set about to take a sample of Claire's blood. He cleaned the blood from her body almost tenderly, draping a blanket across her naked form when he finished. The hole in her stomach was going to leave a ragged scar, but he didn't have any other choice. If he hadn't killed her, she would have mutated and most likely died. He would have had to kill her anyway.

Wesker hooked cords and monitors to Claire to watch her so-called rebirth. Every hour, on the hour, took another blood sample from her, adding it to the steadily growing collection. Each tube was carefully labeled with the time and Claire's name.

For almost forty-eight hours, Wesker kept a constant, vigilant watch over her. About hour six, the monitor attached to her forehead picked up slight electrical signals that had been steadily growing stronger until about hour fourteen when the heart monitor picked up a faint, erratic heartbeat. Wesker watched patiently as Claire's new body grew stronger. Her skin slowly faded to her normal pale color, the spidery lines shrinking and finally disappearing. At hour forty-five, he detected her eyes moving in REM sleep, signaling her slow return to him.

While he watched Claire returning, he ran tests on her blood samples, noting the progression of the virus in her body as it attacked and reconstructed the cells, rejuvenating them into live once again. He was pleased with her progress, fascinated to finally be able to study the virus first hand. It gave him phenomenal information about himself as well as her.

Claire's hand twitched and her eye lids fluttered as Wesker stepped closer to her to check on her vitals. Her eyes were unfocused and vacant as she stared up at him through half lidded eyes. "Wesker?" she mumbled, her voice rough.

"Rest, dear heart. You're back with me and now you need only to sleep," he soothed, gently brushing tangled strands of hair from her face. As her eyes searched his face, he noted that they hadn't returned to their original blue color, remaining that unnatural, piercing, cat-eye green. They were magnificent. "Sleep."

"But you'll be here when I wake up again, right?" she mumbled again, sounding like a frightened child as her eyes were already slowly falling shut.

Wesker nodded with a small smirk. "Of course."

When Claire had fallen asleep again, he lifted the blanket to examine the wound in her stomach. Ever the gentleman, and to preserve her modesty, his eyes only traced the scar, eyeing it clinically. Her healing was nearly complete. It was a scar, pink and shiny with new skin that occasionally cracked and bled if she breathed too deeply. But as he watched, the scar returned to normal, smooth skin, leaving a completely healed scar, much smaller than it had originally been.

He settled himself comfortably in his chair and watched streams of data flow across the screen as he waited for Claire to recover completely, a dangerous smirk playing over his lips.

*****

A humming sound filled her ears as she slowly woke up. She was aware of the room being chill, but not being cold. When she opened her eyes, she immediately regretted it, her eyes swimming with tears from the lights. She could feel the cold table beneath her and the rather scratchy blanket atop her. There was a dull ache in her stomach that was slowly receding, rather like an old bruise. She caught a whiff of a seductive smell and turned her head to find Wesker looking at her through his glasses.

"Welcome back, dear heart," he said with a genuine smile. He stood to look at the monitors around her then came back to her side. "How do you feel?"

Claire swallowed, blinking her eyes in the bright lights. Noting her discomfort, Wesker dimmed the lights so the room was only illuminated by the glow of the computer screens. When he came back into her line of vision she swallowed again and answered. "Like crap." She smiled weakly at him.

Wesker smirked. "That is to be expected," he said, looking back towards the computer screens, reading data on them. They were silent for a time, Claire adjusting to her new senses and the fact that she just died, and Wesker studying the data from the tests and recording it.

"Thank you," she whispered, watching his profile, once again struck with how attractive he was. Wesker merely nodded as if he hadn't really heard her.

Frowning slightly, Claire pulled herself upright, clutching the blanket to her chest as she swung her legs over the side of the table, landing on the floor silently. Wrapping the blanket securely around her, she padded over to where Wesker was engrossed in his work. She watched him for a moment, the numbers on the screens making no sense to her. He still hadn't acknowledged her presence.

Leaning down, Claire brushed her lips against the side of his neck. She felt him stiffen suddenly and hurriedly stood up again, afraid she had offended him. Wesker swiveled around in his chair, taking his sunglasses off to look up at her with an unreadable expression on his face. Slowly he reached out for her and pulled her close to him, breathing in the scent of her. He drew her down onto his lap, his face still unreadable.

"Wesker?" she breathed, afraid of what might happen. Tentatively she reached out and stroked the side of his face with her fingertips, her eyes wide and guarded, half hidden behind her hair.

He said nothing but pulled her closer, his hand slipping under her hair to cradle her neck as he gently lowered his face to hers. "You're welcome," he whispered as his lips pressed against hers. Claire's body relaxed instantly, pressing against his chest as he kissed her gently. He was gentle and kind, not at all like Wesker. This kiss told her that he had not anticipated that anything like that would have happened to her. It had unsettled him. She exalted in that knowledge.

He cradled her against his body as he thoroughly kissed her. Claire's heart thundered in her chest. But, just when she was getting comfortable and letting herself lose herself in Wesker, his phone vibrated across the desk next to them. Wesker briefly debated just letting it ring, but since when did a woman ever come before work? Never.

Gently disengaging himself from Claire's sultry embrace, he reached over and snapped it open. "Yes?" he growled, more cold and annoyed than Claire had heard him in a long time. She slipped from his lap and wandered towards the only door in the lab room. When she looked back over her shoulder at Wesker, he had turned around and had his back to her. Slightly disappointed, Claire pulled the door open and stepped into the living room once again.

Her face paled when she saw the amount of blood covering the floor and splattered up the glass wall beyond her. All that was hers? Slowly, she dropped the blanket and looked down at her chest, finding the new, ragged, freshly healed scar just beneath her breasts. She sighed and knelt, staring at the blood on the floor.

She really was just like him. As she stood again, she caught her reflection in the mirror on the wall and stopped, her eyes wide. She stepped closer and was shocked to see her eyes were no longer blue. They were a rich emerald green, too bright to be human, and were slit like cats' eyes. Bright green with flecks of gold that were definitely not human. Not only were her eyes changed, but she was a little more lean and graceful, her hair thicker and more vibrantly red. Too engrossed in her own reflection, she never heard the soft footsteps behind her.

*****

Wesker chuckled. "Christopher. Its been a while, has it not?" he asked when the person on the phone identified themselves. Behind him, he heard the door click shut.

"Screw you, Wesker. Where's Claire?" Chris snarled, not caring if he was being rude to his former captain.

"Why, you just missed her. We were having a pleasant time until you so rudely interrupted," Wesker said, leaning back into his chair. He could still smell the faint scent of Claire lingering in his lab.

He heard Chris swear rather obscenely, then ask, "What the hell did you do to my sister?" he ground out.

Wesker chuckled again. "What did you send her here for, Chris? Don't play stupid. I saved her life," he stated. "She's quite well, actually, all things considered. Actually, she is better than when she left you." He smirked, hearing Chris's knuckles crack in anger.

"You bastard. When Claire comes back, I'm going to rip your fucking head off. Got it?" he swore, and Wesker heard him punch a wall.

"Hmm. Well, _if_ your sister comes back, I shall await your assault with bated breath. Until then, Christopher," Wesker said, cutting Chris off as he tried to scream more obscenities at him. Smirking, he stood, turning his computers off and headed towards the door back to the main house.

Upon opening the lab door, he was greeted with a vision of Claire standing completely naked, staring into a mirror with her back towards him. She was, indeed, quite beautiful. Especially now that she had transformed. Her body was finely sculpted and her hair was a more fiery red, offsetting her brilliant green eyes. She was so enthralled with her own reflection, she never saw him walk up behind her until she felt his hands on her hips and his lips against her ear.

"Dear heart, as wonderful as it is to come home to find you standing here completely naked, I don't think it's entirely wise," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear.

"Wesker, my eyes," Claire said in horrified anguish. "My eyes aren't normal!" She turned around to face him, her magnificent eyes brimming with revolted tears.

Wesker cocked his head at her and frowned. "What's wrong with your eyes?" he asked in slight confusion.

"They aren't blue! My eyes aren't blue! They're green! They aren't natural!"

"Calm down," he soothed, pulling her into his arms. "It's from your mutation. While the rest of the discoloration went away, your eyes stayed the same vibrant green."

"Am I going to mutate again?" she asked, shuddering in horror.

Wesker smirked. "I sincerely doubt it. Your body had fully accepted the virus and it has taken over your cells. There's no room for a mutation."

Claire was silent for a while, absorbing everything that he had said, comforted in the strength and presence of Wesker. No where else did she feel safer than when she was in his arms. He was her safe haven in all of the madness lately. She could hardly believe that this was the same man who had attacked her on Rockfort Island, who hated her brother with a violent, bloody passion, who would take over the world just to prove that he could. This man who held her as if she were fragile.

Claire was so conflicted. After she learned to master her new self, she would be leaving again. She assumed that, whether she liked it or not, Wesker would send her back to her uncaring brother. He was still Wesker after all, and never had she ever heard of him breaking his word. She doubted that he would want another human being, scratch that, she didn't even know what she was, around to interfere with his work. Claire had never met a person so solitary in her entire life. She doubted Wesker ever left his lab unless he was doing business.

She was glad that she could disturb this man's life, making it more than just computer screens endlessly streaming data, and the infrequent phone calls that rattled across his desk. But somehow, she had become more to Wesker than Chris's little sister and an opportunity to study his virus. If she were just a specimen and nothing more, she imagined she would be locked up in an observation room away from the sun and fresh air, looking at Wesker's glare from the other side of a pane of thick glass. But somehow, she had ended up sleeping in the same bed as him, and neatly wrapped in his arms, his lips gently caressing the skin of her forehead every so often. The more time Claire spent with him, the less she wanted to leave, mortal enemy or no.

Life was not always perfect in paradise.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten: Decisions

After a time, Claire drew away from him, rubbing her eyes free of her tears of confusion. Wesker stroked her shining hair away from her eyes, looking at her almost tenderly. For Wesker that is. Claire smiled slightly up at him, then kissed his cheek gently.

"Thank you again," she murmured as she stepped away from him and headed towards the stairs to the bedroom. Wesker nodded at her and watched her step gracefully up the stairs, her form firmly etched in his mind as he turned to go back to his lab.

Claire wandered through the upstairs rooms, discovering a large bathroom, two more bedrooms, an enormous wrap around balcony, part of which was covered, and the master bedroom that had another bathroom attached.

As she inhaled deeply, she could smell everything. There was the almost overpowering smell of the exotic flowers outside, the smell of old blood from the living room downstairs and the faint, seductive smell of Wesker lingering in the air. She stepped into the bathroom and turned the shower on. Even the water smelled fresh. As she washed her hair, rust colored water streaked down her body as she washed her blood from her hair. The smell was almost overpowering and nauseating. She was grateful that her soap was fruity otherwise she wouldn't have been able to stand it.

Once the blood was cleaned from her skin, she stepped out into the bedroom, and flung open the closet to find clothing already stocked. She smiled when there were a few black sets of clothing hung there as well, but lacking the smell that made them officially Wesker's. Fishing around in the closet a bit more, she came up with a pair of loose pants and a tank top. Tying her hair back once more, she went downstairs to begin cleaning up her mess.

Under the sink she found a bucket with cleaning supplies. Filling the bucket with soapy water, she grabbed a scrub brush and went to work scrubbing away the last moments of her humanity. Quickly, the water turned crimson. Claire emptied the bucket and refilled it again. Four times she did this before the carpet and walls were finally clean. Rinsing the rag, she hung it up to dry and once again stripped off her dirty clothes and threw them in the hamper.

This time, she put on a white sundress and let her hair loose over her shoulders as she stepped out into the sunset and walked down to the beach. Unable to help herself, she stripped her dress off and dove into the crystal clear water. The water was cool against her skin as she swam under the waves, snatching little pieces of bright coral off the ocean floor. The fish darted away from her as she slid through the water, her bright eyes watching them flicker away.

Claire marveled at how fast she could propel herself through the water now that she had been transformed. It no longer took effort to push herself twice as fast as she could have normally swam. Breather was hardly necessary because she could hold her breath almost indefinitely. Soon she had a little collection of pretty rocks and bright coral piled on the beach, making her feel like a mermaid.

The sun had already gone down and the moon was slowly making her presence known with her soft light reflecting on the water. The darkness had no effect on Claire's ability to see which surprised and delighted her. She had always loved being out in the dark. It was quiet, cool and calm, almost like the calm after a storm. Now she could see and it made it that much better.

Naked, she lay on the sun-warmed beach, relaxing and thinking about her options in life so far. She was now no longer human and she was positive her brother wouldn't take her back. He had sent her to Wesker to be given an anti-virus, not to become like Wesker himself. And Claire was happy there with Wesker. If she left, she felt like she would be losing very precious to her. Wesker was no longer the same Wesker to her as the one from Rockfort Island or the Wesker who was the captain of the S.T.A.R.S. team. This Wesker had feeling, however small. He genuinely cared about her.

Maybe Wesker had been missing something in his life and now had found it in Claire. She snorted softly at that idea. Wesker didn't need anyone and never had. Just because he had changed however slightly, didn't mean he wasn't still Wesker. Claire was just an experiment to him with whom he had a fondness for. There's no way she could ever mean anything serious to him.

The dried on sand started to itch against her skin so she slid back into the silky water, swimming leisurely. Slowly she drifted through the water, her hair billowing around her in a fiery cloud. Her thoughts mimicked her slow movements, sliding fluidly through her mind never completely becoming clear. The moonlight on her skin made her glow faintly, and she felt like a goddess. Too lulled by the gently lapping waves and her own thoughts, she didn't hear or smell Wesker watching her from the shadowed archway draped with flowers.

He watched her with glowing eyes. She was magnificent. She was much faster than she had been as a human, almost rivaling his own speed. The way she moved was graceful and confident, almost like that of a leopard; delicate-looking, but very dangerous indeed. She looked like a fierce deity come down to earth swimming naked in the lagoon. And she was his.

He set dropped his glasses in the sand next to her discarded dress, and was soon slipping silently through the water as naked as her, his own clothing discarded as carelessly as hers. Silently, he swam up to her and set his hands on her hips, making her scream and whip around in fright.

"Relax, dear heart," he soothed, gently kissing her neck.

"W-Wesker!" Claire said, her eyes wide with shock. "Y-you're-you're naked!" She finished with a little scream, trying to cover herself halfheartedly.

He chuckled and said, "And so are you."

"What are you doing here? I thought you were in the lab!" she said, slightly hysterical.

"Do I need a reason to enjoy a swim at night?" he asked, swimming away from her a few strokes and looking back at her with a strange glint in his crimson eyes. "This is my island after all."

Claire didn't relax and lowered herself farther in the water even though it was crystal clear. It made her feel better at least. Why, now of all times, was Wesker taking advantage of his 'house rules'? Now, when she was so _conflicted_ about everything? _Damn you, Wesker_, she thought as she let him pull her close again. Why did he have to be everything she wanted? A man who was strong and independent, wanted her around, but didn't need her for everything. A little dominating, but not overbearing, handsome, intelligent. Why did he have to be her enemy? She didn't want him as her enemy anymore. She was in love with him. Claire was in love with Albert Wesker, god help her.

"Dear heart," he murmured against her neck, brushing his lips there. "I shall give you this choice. It is unconditional and there is no going back once you're mind is made up. I shall give you some time to think on it, but remember, once you give me your choice, there is no going back." He kissed her softly on the lips, his fingers tracing small circles on her back as he held her close.

Claire nodded, but looked troubled. What could Wesker be her a choice on? He didn't give choices unless they had a bad choice and a worse choice.

"It's as simple as this, dear heart. Either you stay here with me and give up your brother, or you go back to him and we become enemies again. It's your choice, Claire," he said, kissing her neck again.

She let out a sigh, tilting her head back to allow him more access to her skin. "Are you trying to persuade me?" she whispered, holding on to his strong shoulders.

He grinned wickedly against her skin. "With me, you wouldn't have to hide who you truly are. We are two of the same, don't you think we should be together for safety reasons at least?" he said, planting seeds of doubt in her mind. "People might get suspicious when they see your eyes, don't you think? I think they are magnificent, to go with a magnificent woman."

His words cut through the sensual fog in her mind. Leave her uncaring brother for the man she loved? That sounded like a good idea. But wait. This was _Chris_. They had been through so much together. They had watched out for each other since they were children, taken care of each other when they were sick, comforted each other when they had had a bad day or lost a boyfriend or girlfriend. They were best friends aside from being brother and sister.

And she would be leaving him for _Wesker_? The man who had betrayed them in Raccoon City, attacked Claire on Rockfort Island, set hunters on Chris in the destroyed facility on Rockfort, the man who had destroyed two elite S.T.A.R.S. teams just because he needed to test his new play toy. He needed no one and he knew it.

But Chris had betrayed her to Wesker to begin with. Claire felt a pang of pain slice through her heart as she thought about it. She knew that if she went back to Chris, he would never accept her as she was now. He had spent too many years destroying bioweapons to let his sister become one. Especially if she was like his former captain. It just wasn't in Chris to look the other way.

She took a deep breath and said, "Before I can give you my answer, will you give me one thing? Please, I have to do this. Then I will give you my answer," she said, taking his face in her hands and looking him in the eye. She kissed him softly, all the while never breaking eye contact with him.

"What is it you want, dear heart?"

She swallowed before she answered him. "I want to visit my brother."

Instantly, Wesker eyes hardened and he slipped away from her in the water. He gave her a hard look and went towards the beach, but she quickly caught up to him.

"Wesker, please! I only want to visit him. I already know my answer, but I have to make sure it's right. Please let me do this," she pleaded with him, holding his hand to her cheek.

He looked at her for a moment, then said, "Alright. However, I shall be accompanying you. I have business I need to attend to, so I shall be leaving you for a short time while you visit your dear brother. I hope you are making the right decision, dear heart."

Claire nodded, grinning at him. "Thank you," she said, and slid her hands up his chest and around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair and kissing him deeply. His hands slowly came around her back and held her too him as he slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her deeper. His tongue slid along her lips with velvety smoothness, making her groan softly.

"We leave tomorrow, dear heart. Be prepared for this," he said and drifted away from her towards the beach and his clothing. Claire watched him go, relishing in the fine figure he cut, his skin shining in the moonlight, glistening with water.

In her heart, she knew which answer she was going to choose and was using her brother's visit to say goodbye to the one she wasn't picking. She watched Wesker pick up his clothing from the beach and disappear under the trellis of flowers, still completely naked. He paused just before he disappeared and turned back to look at her, his red eyes gleaming in the darkness.

Moments later, Claire followed him into the house, pulling her dress over her head. She found him sitting in the living room typing on his laptop, per usual. He was dressed and she found that she was ever so slightly disappointed. She sat on the couch across from him, curling her legs up underneath her.

"Can I use your phone to call him?" she asked, rather timidly. He had allowed her to visit him, but she didn't want to push his charitableness too far. She peeked at him through the fall of her hair. He nodded silently, and handed over his phone. Claire stared at him. "Aren't you afraid that he will be able to track it and find you?" she asked, turning the sleek black phone over in her hands.

Wesker chuckled. "Dear heart, don't you think I would have already thought about that? It's untraceable. No matter what technology he has, there is no way he could track it."

That made her feel a little better about using his phone. Flipping it open, she dialed his cell phone and waited for it to connect. A moment later, she heard Chris's voice growl, "What the hell do you want, Wesker?"

Claire took a deep breath. "It's not Wesker," she said quietly. "It's me."

Chris was silent for a moment. "Claire?" he asked, not believing his ears.

"Yes, it's me. But listen, I don't have long to talk." She glanced at Wesker, who was staring at her over the top of his computer. "Meet me at home the day after tomorrow."

"Wait! Are you okay? Has he done something to you? If he has, I swear to god, I'm going to murder that bastard!" Chris yelled, and Claire heard Jill in the background asking what was going on.

"Look, just meet me at home, okay? Tell Jill and the team hi for me," she said, and felt tears come to her eyes.

"Wait, Claire-" But Claire had already shut the phone, stroking it absently with her fingertips. Silently she handed the phone back to Wesker and went upstairs without saying a word.

This might be harder than she thought.

*****

Claire dressed her jeans and a plain white t shirt as she and Wesker got ready to leave the next morning. He had told her that they were leaving and that a helicopter would be there to pick them up in an hour. As she looked over the rooms to make sure she wasn't missing anything important, she heard Wesker come back from the lab. As she entered the living room, she saw that he had a briefcase in one hand and was on the phone with the other. He wasn't wearing his glasses yet, but they were tucked into the pocket of his shirt.

As he stepped in the room, he snapped his phone shut and slid it in his pocket, motioning Claire to follow him out the door. He led her up a narrow path and to the top of a hill. The round part of the hill was flattened to allow for a helicopter pad to be placed there. Already, Claire could hear the steady beat of the chopper's blades. They waited another five minutes for it to appear and descend to pick them up.

Wesker helped Claire into the chopper and hauled the door shut behind him, settling himself in the seat next to her, nonchalantly throwing his arm over the back of her seat. Claire smiled as they took off, snuggling into his side. She casually reached up and kissed him, giving him a soft linger kiss and a long look in his eyes. He nodded to her slightly, then said, "Dear heart, you know I can't let you see where we are located."

Claire frowned up at him. "I suppose that means you get to prick me with your damnable needles again, doesn't it?" She shifted against him, trying to get comfortable.

"Unfortunately for you, yes," he said, taking a syringe out of his coat pocket. "However, it is not a long trip, therefore a lesser dosage."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Still. I don't like needles; they're unnerving," she explained, extending her arm to him.

He brushed his thumb gently over her smooth skin, looking at her with a strange look on his face. "Dear heart, I do hope you know what you're doing," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her as the needle slid into her flesh, depositing its load of sedatives into her blood stream. "I shall miss you if you choose wrongly," he whispered as she lost consciousness.

Miss her he would indeed.

As she lay snuggled against his side, he wrapped his arm around her as they tilted in the air for a turn. Never before had someone so impacted him as the little redheaded Redfield girl had. While he was completely convinced that he would never _need_ anyone at his side, he was certainly enjoying having her there. She was the only one who could ever get away with touching him, much less kissing him and swimming naked with him. She had so effortlessly broken down his defenses and snuck through the nonexistent crack to find him there beneath it all. He sincerely hoped that she would choose the right decision.

Could they really face each other on the opposite sides of a battlefield and feel nothing as they destroyed each other? He might, but he doubted that his little redhead could. She was an emotional creature who followed her emotions and what her heart said. But she was not weak for it. No, she was one of the strongest women he had ever met, not that he would tell her this, of course.

But, Claire Redfield would be his, no matter what it took. No one ever told Albert Wesker no and got away with it. He smiled slightly as Claire pulled his arm tighter around her, pressing her nose against his arm and inhaling deeply. She didn't seem like she wanted to leave him, but Chris was her brother after all, and they were technically supposed to be enemies. He would just have to be patient and wait.

*****

When she woke, she was reclining in the passenger seat of an expensive looking car, with Wesker at the wheel, looking contemplative. She was lying under his coat. It smelled wonderful, making her pull it closer, burying her nose in it. Content to just sit there, covered in the scent of Wesker, she looked out the window to find that it was night.

"Where are we?" she asked, looking over to him. His face was illuminated by the lights from the dashboard, giving him a rather disturbing appearance. Claire frowned at that. But when he turned to look at her, he looked like his handsome self again.

"Almost there, dear heart," he stated, reaching over to brush a stray tendril of hair out of her eyes. She leaned against his hand for a moment then he drew away to drive again. Claire settled back in her seat for the rest of the drive.

Her eyes lit up when they entered the neighborhood where she and Chris lived. All that could be seen were her brilliant green eyes glinting in the darkness as she cuddled into Wesker's coat. A few moments later, they pulled into the driveway of the house the siblings shared.

It was a small, simple home. It had white siding and a small, neat little yard. Claire stepped out of the car, throwing Wesker's coat around her shoulders and strode up the walk. She bent down where the bottom of the siding met the brick foundation and fumbled around for a moment before pulling out a key and inserting it in the door's lock.

Opening the door, she stood back to allow Wesker in. "Impressive hiding place, dear heart," he commented as he stepped past her.

Claire just shrugged and said, "It works." She felt slightly awkward having Wesker in her house. It wasn't messy but it wasn't exactly clean. It looked lived in, unlike Wesker's homes that had the air of pristine newness. "So, um, do you want anything to drink or eat at all?" she said, standing in the doorway, looking nervous, still draped in Wesker's oversized coat.

Wesker's answer was to pull her against him and brush the coat from her shoulders to puddle on the floor behind her. He kicked the door to the outside world shut behind them and kissed her deeply. He would not lose her. His lips moved over hers with unrestrained hunger, but in the bruising crush of his mouth she sensed a touch of anger-an element she might have understood at some other time. She could feel his desire struggling just beneath his skin, waging a mighty battle against his will. _And losing_, she though smugly as his grip on her hair gentled enough for him to tilt her head, allowing his tongue deeper access to her mouth.

Claire softened against him, clung to his shoulders, and gave herself over to the dizzying waves of sensation. How could a simple kiss resonate in every inch of her body and make it seem like the floor was tilting beneath her feet? She kissed him back eagerly, fiercely. This is what she wanted, this right here, with him.

Wesker pushed her backwards until she met the wall with a thud, still kissing her deeply. Almost as if the world depended on it. As his lips trailed down her throat, she whispered his name, her eyes gleaming with pleasure. He trapped both of her hands above her head with one hand and pulled her hips against his own with the other. She was trapped between the hard wall and almost impossibly harder man.

"Are you still trying to persuade me?" she murmured, her eyes fluttering with passion.

He chuckled darkly, his eyes flashing. "No, Claire. I'm reminding you of what you're giving up should you choose the wrong option." His hands slid down her back then up her chest to cradle her head in his hands as he kissed her again and again and again.

"Tomorrow you will have your answer, Wesker," she whispered as he pulled her into the modest living room to tumble onto the couch.

For one more day at least, Wesker was all hers as she sat wrapped in his arms, not really watching the television, too wrapped up in Wesker.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven: Goodbye

The next morning, Claire sat on the steps as Wesker got ready to leave for his business meeting. She had tried to get him to talk about it to keep her mind off meeting with Chris, but he wouldn't say anything about it, only telling her that he hoped she knew what she's doing.

As he stepped into his boots, Claire stood up and went to him. "When will you be back?" she asked, leaning against the door, her hands behind her.

Wesker straightened his coat and glasses, picking up his briefcase from the floor by his feet and turned to her. "I will be back tomorrow morning, dear heart. Don't fret. Just remember what I told you," he said, leaning down to kiss her softly, holding her against his chest for what could very well be the last time.

Claire clung to him, not wanting to let go so quickly. Gently, she pulled the briefcase out of his hand and set it on the floor again, her arms slipping into his coat around his waist. She kissed his neck, then buried her nose there, inhaling his heady scent, committing it to memory. "Wesker," she whispered, snuggling closer to him.

"Dear heart, I really must be going," he said quietly as he let her kiss his neck repeatedly. "I should not like to be here, either, when your brother shows up."

Slowly, she relinquished her grip on him and stepped back. "I'll see you tomorrow then," she said, handing him his briefcase again.

He nodded and kissed her lingeringly once more. "Until tomorrow." With that, he strode out the door and stepped into his black car and drove away.

Claire watched him until he disappeared, then headed up to her room to find a dark pair of sunglasses to hide her eyes. Her favorite pair were lying on top of her dresser, so she snatched them up and was about to put them on when she saw her reflection in the mirror. As she examined her eyes, she decided they were attractive, in an exotic way, but definitely not normal. Hastily, she put the glasses over her eyes.

They weren't dainty female sunglasses either. They were the big, heavy ones that bikers generally wore, reflecting in blue. It bothered her to no end when people would use them as mirrors and pick their teeth in the reflection, naïve enough to think she couldn't see them either. She hated it, but they were her favorite pair, so she always wore them.

Twenty minutes later, she heard a vehicle outside the house. Giddy and nervous, she decided she didn't need to answer the door, since he lived here too. She headed out to the back deck and sat in a chair, her foot twitching spasmodically with her nerves.

"Claire?" She heard his familiar voice call, echoing through the house.

She took a breath. "Out here!" she called back, fighting the urge to run from him.

She heard his heavy, booted footsteps as he stepped out the door onto the porch. "Claire?" he asked, sounding slightly nervous.

Claire turned around to face him, thankful that the sunglasses hid her eyes from him. "Hi, Chris," she said, smiling uncertainly at the slightly confused look on his face.

"Hey stupid," he said, grinning when he saw that it was really Claire. He held his arms out to her and she hugged him gently, afraid that he would find out that she wasn't exactly Claire anymore, with her new strength.

"Hey," she said, still feeling awkward as she stepped back from him, nervously pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

Chris sat down in a chair with a groan, propping his feet up on the table. Claire wrinkled her nose, but said nothing. "So, how goes it?" Chris asked, stretching his arms out behind him, grinning like a little kid at Christmas.

Claire shrugged, sitting down across from him. "Alright I guess. How's work been going for you since I- um- left?" she asked, fiddling with a stick that happened to be on the table.

Now it was Chris's turn to shrug. "Same old, same old. Becky's been working in a lab that's owned by us, but working specifically for our team. She's ours exclusively; it's kind of nice, too. She likes it, but misses the fieldwork. Leon went to work for the government, listening for any leads and rumors and things about the bioweapons' market." He cracked his knuckles and suddenly looked really shy. "Jill and I are engaged."

Claire's eyes widened and a huge grin spread across her face. "That's awesome!" she exclaimed, poking him in the arm with the stick she was fiddling with. "When did this happen?"

He rubbed the back of his neck embarrassedly. "About a week ago, I guess. It just sort of fell out of my mouth," he said, looking at her, still embarrassed.

"Well? When's the wedding?" Claire asked, getting excited. Jill was the perfect kind of woman for her brother. She was cool and calm when he erupted in anger, and she was the only one who could successfully calm him down too. They were a perfect match in Claire's eyes.

"We were thinking in the spring sometime, I guess," he said, now looking out towards the distance. "Just something small." He grinned sheepishly.

Claire nodded, still grinning. "That's great. You guys deserve each other." She snapped the twig in half and poked one half around on the table with the other.

They were silent for a time. Claire was afraid to say anything about what happened to her, and Chris wasn't asking. He had closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the chair, looking tensed. Claire's foot was twitching again with anxiety. There had to be an easy way of doing this, there just had to be. The more she though about it, the longer the silence between the siblings became. Chris stood up moments later, telling her he was getting something to drink. Claire followed him into the kitchen, silent as a ghost.

He reached into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Budweiser, and twisted the top off. Leaning against the counter, he frowned when he saw Claire still had her sunglasses on in the dim house. He took a swig, then asked quietly, "So, how are you? Did he find an anti-virus?"

Claire was silent for a moment, her heart thundering in her chest in fear. She knew she had to do this; this was the reason she had come home. Gingerly, she pulled her sunglasses off, her eyes still downcast so he couldn't see them. Her hair wasn't in its ponytail, so it slid forward to hide her face even more. Her hands shook as she tried not to snap her glasses in her distress.

"Claire?"

She lifted her eyes to stare at him, tears shimmering in their emerald depths. His eyes went wide as he choked on the mouthful of beer he had just swallowed. Spluttering, he set the bottle on the counter and looked at her again. Her eyes were so green it was creepy. And they were slit, just like Wesker's.

"What the hell did he do to you?" he whispered, the anger building inside him. Claire could see his eyes hardening.

The tears spilled over her cheeks as she took a deep breath. "Chris, there was no cure for this," she whispered, taking a step towards him. Her heart shattered when he flinched away from her, upsetting his beer to spill over the counter.

"That _bastard_," he breathed, slamming his hand into the countertop, afraid to look at Claire. "He wanted this to happen. He wanted to get to me. And he knew how, too," he said dangerously.

"No! Chris, there was nothing he could do. I ended up mutating, that's where my eyes came from. Now I'm like him," she said, stepping back to lean against the wall in shame once again. How could he think that this was only about him? She was the one who had mutated. She had seen the real fright in Wesker's eyes when she began changing. But all he could think about was Wesker trying to get to him.

"You… mutated? You turned into a monster?" he asked in disbelief, and Claire saw his hand twitch to where his gun holster normally was strapped to his leg. What hope was left for her brother accepting her, shattered in that instant.

"Wesker saved me from becoming one, Chris," she said, tears still coursing down her cheeks. "He _saved _me. I'm here, I'm me," she pleaded, holding her hand out to him, her eyes begging him to take it, to accept her still.

But Chris would have no part of it. "I hugged a _monster_," he said in disgust, looking at his hands. "I have no sister, she died because of a virus accident," he said, staring at her with eyes burning with loathing. He threw the empty bottle at the wall where it exploded in sharp little shards raining down on the floor. Chris had their father's violent tendencies.

Claire shuddered at his words. "NO!" she howled, clamping her hands over her ears, sliding down the wall to her knees. "Chris! NO! Please, no!" She started shaking, rocking back and forth, her arms wrapped around her knees like she did when she was a child. Instead of Chris comforting her this time, he was hurting her.

Chris stormed out of the kitchen, then stepped back to look at her coldly. "I'm leaving. You are not my sister anymore. You're a biological fuck-up. Next time I see you, I will shoot on site." Claire stared up at him, her burning emerald eyes meeting his cold, hard brown.

Claire screamed as she heard the front door slam shut. She struggled to her feet in an effort to stumble to the door. As she yanked it open, Chris was already gone. She collapsed on the floor, sobbing. For hours she lay there with the door open, staring into space, occasionally crying, sometimes silent, with quiet tears coursing down her cheeks, disappearing into her hair.

She didn't know how long she lay there, but when she opened her eyes, she could smell that familiar, sensual smell of Wesker. She heard the quiet slam of a car door and lighter, more careful footsteps. Not having the energy to get up, she just lay there in the doorway, with the door still open.

"Claire?" she heard his deep voice ask. Then he spotted her lying on the floor in a ragged heap. Setting his briefcase on the floor, he knelt down next to her, gently turning her over in his lap. "Dear heart, what happened?" he asked when he saw her tearstained face. Instantly, Claire clung to him, sobbing once again.

Between sobs, she told him what had happened. How she had shown him her eyes and he had gotten angry, how he had disowned her. "He said he would kill me if he saw me again!" she sobbed, clinging to him, staining his dark shirt with her tears. Wesker leaned back against the wall, holding Claire in his lap. That fool. Could he not see what a magnificent creature his sister was?

"All along," she said, quieting bit by bit. "All along, Wesker, it was you. I choose you. I had to say goodbye to Chris, to let him know what had happened, but all along, I had chosen you," she murmured, wrapping her arms around his waist, burying her face in his neck.

Wesker's arms tightened around her when he heard this. "Wise decision, dear heart," he said quietly. He gently kissed her forehead as she slowly fell asleep, listening to the quiet, comforting thud of his heart.

*****

Wesker was almost violent when Claire told him what Chris had done. Could he not see a perfect specimen when he looked at one? But no, it was Christopher, never the brightest, but an excellent shot. He never did ask too many questions when they were on the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team.

As he sat in the entryway holding the sleeping Claire, the phone rang. Not wanting to disturb her, he just let it finish ringing, then the answering machine picked up.

"_Um, wow. Claire, I'm sorry, but it has to be this way. I can't go on attacking these labs and viruses when my own sister is a bio-weapon. I just can't. I know you're my sister, but this is a bigger thing for me. Call me an ass, because I am, but I can't do this. The rest of the team feels the same way. We're sorry, but it's just not possible. I'm getting on a plane and leaving to go back to the team. Goodbye, Claire._" Click.

Wesker's eyes flashed in anger as he heard this message. But it was because of Chris that Claire was now completely his. He no longer had to worry about Claire wondering what her brother would think. She no longer had to worry about disappointing him.

He slid out from under Claire and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her into the living room. He lay her down on the couch, then covered her with his coat. As he watched, she nestled deeper into it, her nose buried in the collar. Smirking, he retrieved his briefcase from the entryway and settled himself in a chair next to her where he could keep watch. Once again, she slept, and he worked endlessly beside her.

*****

When Claire woke again, she heard the steady clicking of keys. Turning over, she saw Wesker engrossed in his work once again. He looked up at her as she stared at him over the computer. She smiled tiredly at him.

"Hi," she murmured, pulling his coat up under her chin.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, setting his computer aside.

She laughed hollowly. "Dead," she whispered, her luminous eyes filling with tears. Her hair fell over her face, obscuring her agony from him.

The couch dipped as he sat on the edge next to her, gently stroking the hair back from her face. He slipped his gloves off and wiped away her tears with his fingertips. "Dear heart," he said softly, stroking her cheek.

She stared up at him, lost in his crimson eyes. To most people, they were disturbing and cold, the unfeeling eyes of a monster. But now Claire knew otherwise. There were subtle changes that one could pick up on to determine his emotions. Right now they were looking at her with something akin to sympathy and compassion. But only if you had spent long amounts of time with him would you notice the faint changes. These were they eyes that had haunted her dreams, filled with terror, but now were the only ones who brought her any comfort in the demanding, biased world.

She reached out and stroked his face tenderly. Sitting up, she leaned forward to kiss him, thankful that he was here, holding her, grounding her in all of this pain and change. She kissed him reverently, delighting in his touch along her arms and around her back, the way he stroked his fingers through her hair, the way he tenderly held her close to his warm body. This was _her_ Wesker, the one only she got to see.

"Come with me?" she whispered, tugging on his hand. Wesker stood and followed her up the stairs to her room. She wasn't embarrassed to show it to him, because it really wasn't girly; blue walls, a darker blue comforter on her queen-sized bed. She didn't believe in girly-ness. There were a few posters on the wall but nothing embarrassing. "Hold me?" she asked as she lay down on her bed, her eyes still swimming with tears.

Wesker nodded, and lay down next to her, kicking his boots off to lie next to it. Claire slid over next to him and curled up against his chest, clinging to him like a lifeline. If this is what it took to keep her at his side, then he would do it. She needed her moment of weakness, then she would become stronger because of it.

The moon shone through the bedroom window, illuminating Claire's eyes. They looked feral and dangerous, and more heartbroken than any he had ever seen. He stroked her back, comforting her with his touch, kissing her forehead. Her shoulders shook as she cried silently into his chest.

*****

The next morning, Claire woke to find Wesker sleeping soundly next to her. Once more his blond hair was in disarray. Smiling gently, she brushed the hair off his forehead, and kissed him gently before getting up and leaving the room. She felt a little better after spending the night wrapped in Wesker's comforting arms, but her heart was still sore.

Chris had left her for good. They were on the opposite sides now. They would inevitably end up fighting each other. That though ruined her slightly-better mood. As she traipsed down the stairs, she entered the kitchen to see Chris's empty, shattered beer bottle on the floor and beer spilled across the counter. She always ended up cleaning up after him, whether it was his dirty laundry all down the hall or he made himself something to eat and left dirty dishes and empty packages in his wake.

She swept the broken glass up and deposited it in the garbage can, wiping up the spilled alcohol with a wad of paper towels. Even as she sat in the kitchen, she realized she wasn't hungry. She hadn't eaten since before she changed, yet she felt no hunger pangs. The thought of food didn't even appeal to her. As she straightened the house, hanging Wesker's delectable-smelling coat on the coat rack, her mind wandered again.

She would be staying with Wesker now. This house was a place she was no longer welcome. There really wasn't anything she wanted to take with her. Nothing really had sentimental value to her here. And with Wesker, she would want for nothing and she knew it. She smiled slightly at the thought of living with Wesker now, cleaning up the house, not that it was ever dirty. Everything of his was always so impeccably neat; no dirty clothes, no dirty dishes, no wet towels left in the bathroom. He was the perfect gentleman, and had immaculate mannerisms. She doubted there was another man in the world who acted like him, then laughed at herself. Of course there wasn't. It was Wesker.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the front door. Wondering who would be knocking at all, she hesitated before opening it. She regretted it as soon as she did.

Standing on the front porch were two somber looking men dressed in the uniform from the Air Force, one of them holding an American flag. They both removed their hats as the one on the left asked, "Miss Redfield?"


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve: Pain

"Miss Redfield?"

She blinked then nodded. "Y-yes, that's me. What can I help you gentlemen with?" She was confused why two men would be standing on her door step, dressed from the Air Force. Her heart stuttered as she stared at the flag folded so neatly in one of their hands, the other clutching a small box.

"Miss Redfield, we regret to inform you that your brother, Christopher Redfield was killed yesterday when his plane went down."

Claire stared at them in horror, letting out a heartrending wail. "No, no, no, no, no. Chris can't be dead! I talked to him yesterday! You're wrong! No!" she said frantically, falling backwards. Familiar arms caught her before she hit the ground but she paid them no heed.

"Miss Redfield, we were able to retrieve his dog tags as proof of this misfortune," they said gently. One knew how it felt to lose someone like this. He knew the familiar feelings of disbelief and denial, of agony and pain.

Claire reached for the box that had her brothers' tags and flag with shaking hands. Silent tears coursed down her cheeks as she looked at the two men before her, their heads bowed. Then they snapped their heads up, put their caps back on, and saluted her. Claire just stared at them. They turned as one and walked back down the sidewalk.

Clutching the new items to her chest, she sank to the floor, and screamed. Her brother was dead. He had left like that yesterday and now he was dead. There would be no making up, no 'I'm sorry', no 'can we try this again'. No, Chris was dead.

Uncontrollable shaking took over her body as she sat on the cold floor, screaming her agony. Angry tears splashed down her face. She felt warm, comforting arms wrap around her, pulling her into his lap. She curled up and sobbed like a little child there, held in Wesker's arms. He stroked her back as she clutched his arm to her chest. He had never seen anyone in such agony as he did now.

Inwardly, however, Wesker was furious. Christopher was supposed to be his to kill. But he died in a plane crash. How unglorified for him, something as simple as that. Wesker had truly won, but he felt like he had been cheated. He was supposed to make Chris suffer, to make him bleed, to make him scream in agony and terror. He was supposed to stand over Chris as he lay dying and laugh at him. That personal glory had been stolen from him and it made him furious.

He sat in the hall holding Claire for hours while she sobbed, until they finally quieted and stopped all together. When he looked down, she was sleeping. She had exhausted herself emotionally these last two days and it had drained her physically. As gently as he could, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her upstairs to her room and laid her on the bed. He gently tugged the box and flag from her grasp and set them on the table beside her bed. Kissing her forehead, he pulled the blankets up over her shaking form and turned to leave the room quietly.

Downstairs, he shut the open front door and stood framed in the sliding door to the back porch. While he had hoped that Claire would stay with him, he had anticipated throwing it in Chris's face that she had chosen Wesker and not him. But now he had to compete with the memory of Chris, which could prove to be very difficult. Claire loved her brother deeply. Growling with frustration, he went back to his chair in the living room, propping his laptop open on his knees. As he immersed himself in his work, Chris was soon pushed from his mind.

*****

When Claire woke, she felt like she had been sick with the flu. She ached and she felt gritty with sweat. Grimacing, she turned over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, slowly rubbing a hand across her forehead. As she rolled over again, her eyes fell on the flag and box sitting on the nightstand. Suddenly, the wave of grief slammed into her, and she fell apart all over again.

Sliding her trembling legs out from under the blankets, she stood and stumbled down the stairs into the living room, where she knew Wesker would be working. She leaned heavily against the door frame as she looked at him, her eyes shattered with pain and loneliness.

"Wesker?" she whispered, her voice cracking as a few more tears coursed down her cheeks. He looked up at her, setting his computer aside. Slowly, he came out of the chair and wrapped her in his warm, strong embrace. Silently, she soaked his shirtfront, and he found himself not caring.

Gently, he scooped her into his arms, and deposited her onto the couch, tugging a blanket up around her. "Wait here, dear heart," he murmured when she tried to protest. "I'll make you something hot to drink to ease your throat." She nodded weakly, her tears still cascading down her cheeks.

Wesker marched into the meager kitchen and ransacked the cupboards for tea. He was mildly relieved to find a box, albeit an old box, of peppermint tea. He put a bag of tea in a ceramic mug and filled it with water, and placed it in the microwave. His sensitive ears could pick up the muffled sounds of Claire still sobbing into the blanket he had tucked around her.

When the microwave beeped, he removed the white mug and carried the steaming mug into the living room, sitting down on the couch next to Claire. She looked horrible; her eyes were bloodshot and watery, her skin clammy and blotchy, her nose was red and puffy, and her hair was a tangled, matted mess. When he sat, she reached out for the cup with hands shaking so badly that she nearly spilled the hot contents on herself. Steadying her hands with his own, he helped her tip the steaming liquid to her lips and take a sip.

Setting the empty cup on the coffee table, Wesker stroked the side of Claire's face, furious with that Chris had managed to hurt her yet again. Wordlessly, Claire pulled his hand toward her, making him shift so that he was sitting with her leaning against his chest. With a silent sob, she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his shirt, crying silently. When her body had stopped shaking, Wesker noticed that she had fallen asleep yet again.

Shaking his head slightly, he picked her unconscious form up off the couch and proceeded to carry her up to her room yet again. Depositing her on the bed and tucking her in, he turned to leave when he felt her grasp the back of his shirt.

"Dear heart?" he asked, turning to face her.

She swallowed, not saying anything. Silently, Wesker understood. He dropped his glasses to the bedside table and sat to remove his boots and belt. Leaning back against the headboard of the bed, Claire migrated to his side, pressed against him, her arms wrapped around him.

Wrapping on arm around her waist, the other hand slid up her arm to cup her face gently, turning her towards him. Her eyes were glassy like a dolls; emotionless and empty. Ever so slowly, he reached down and pressed his lips against hers. They almost felt cold to him, but then the Claire he knew came back, and then they were warms against his, kissing him back, albeit with less enthusiasm.

Rolling over with Claire's body under his, supporting his weight on his elbows, he brushed her tangled hair from her face and kissing her again. Slowly at first, healing her pain with his uncharacteristic tenderness, then with increasing passion. Claire's hands went from lying listless at her sides to sliding under the hem of Wesker's shirt, brushing against his smooth skin. Wesker's own hands slipped down her sides and tugged her shirt up over her head to be discarded on the floor.

The moon shone on her pale skin like alabaster as he looked down at her beneath him. She looked like a mythological goddess come to life as she lay sprawled beneath him with her radiant eyes, flaming hair, and white skin. Then his lips were pressed against her neck, feeling her pulse throbbing there, his fingers tangled in her hair as she whispered his name above him. Sliding his hands down her curvaceous body, she was soon rid of needless clothing.

Tugging on Wesker's shirt, Claire slid it over his head, but when she reached for his pants, he caught her hands and whispered, "That's enough for tonight, dear heart. You need your rest." Pressing his lips to hers softly, she nodded, still slightly dazed from his touches and curled up under his arm, pressed against his side. Pressing a kiss to his chest, she snuggled in and was asleep in moments.

As she lay there, Wesker's own mind slowed and soon he, too, was sound asleep, with his fiery goddess in his arms.

*****

Okay, yes this is short!!! I had to post it to tell you, my long suffering readers, that, no I have not abandoned it, and yes, I intend to finish this one! But at the moment I'm suffering from writer's block… Any ideas and inspirations would be greatly appreciated!!!

Again, I apologize that it has taken me so long to get back to this… But hopefully now it wont be as long!

Lady Anwe


	13. Chapter 13

"Dear heart, we must be leaving." Wesker's voice cut through the haze of her sleep. As her eyes fluttered open, she saw him standing next to the bed, once again dressed in his long, black coat, his sunglasses firmly over his eyes. Nodding slightly, she rolled over onto her stomach and stretched like a cat, her rear in the air, her hands stretched out in front of her, a small groan of satisfaction leaving her lips.

When she stood, Wesker nodded and left her alone. Pulling on her favorite pair of jeans, she looked in the mirror and saw her reflection. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and she had dark bags under her eyes. Her normally satiny smooth hair was a tangled mess and her nose was red. Sighing, she combed her fingers as best she could through her hair and slipped a button-down shirt on, then headed downstairs to meet Wesker.

"Can I at least take a shower first?" she asked, leaning against the doorframe, watching him typing on his computer per usual. He didn't look up when he answered her, but his fingers had stopped clicking keys.

"We must be leaving, the sooner, the better. You can take a shower when we get home," he said, and snapped the computer shut, tucking it safely in its case.

Claire physically flinched when he said 'home'. This wasn't home anymore. Home had been a loving brother and the rest of the team. No, this wasn't home anymore. Home was with Wesker, wherever he decided to live. For now, home was a deserted, remote island that she had no idea where it was located.

As Wesker walked up to her, Claire took his computer case out of his hands, setting in on the floor next to them, her heart thumping loudly in her chest. Feeling suddenly shy, she hesitantly slid her arms around his waist, looking up at him, wishing he wasn't wearing his infernal glasses. With a slight smirk, Wesker leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, one hand on her hip, the other cradling her face.

This kiss was soft and slow, his lips gently rubbing over hers with slight erotic friction. His hand tightened on her waist, pulling her against his chest, his other hand threading through her hair. As his lips slid from her mouth to her neck, she tilted her head to the side, his tongue tasting her skin.

"Wesker," she whispered, her hands sliding up his chest. But just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket against her hip.

Growling, Wesker stepped away from Claire, and shoved his hand in his pocket, and flipped open his phone so hard Claire was afraid he would break it. "What?" he barked into the phone, turning away from her.

As Wesker started to berate the poor individual on the phone, she wandered through the house, no longer feeling welcome. It felt like she was in a stranger's home, like she had broken in, and was waiting to be found.

Drifting through the house, she ignored everything, intentionally leaving her mind blank, not letting herself think about anything. When she focused again, she was back to where she had started, in the entry hall, facing Wesker.

"We must go, dear heart. Do you have everything? There's no coming back here once you walk out this door," he said, opening the door and beckoning to her. Claire hesitated for a millisecond, then brushed past him, and opened the passenger door to his car. Smiling dangerously, Wesker closed the door to the house and joined her in the car.

"Let's go home," Claire said, touching his leg gently with her hand, looking him squarely in the eyes.

Wesker smirked as he started the ignition. "Indeed."

*****

Waking up pressed against Wesker's chest was something Claire would have enjoyed had it not been drug-induced, or on a very uncomfortable helicopter. Sitting up groggily, she shoved her hair out of her face and followed Wesker out of the helicopter, stumbling when she hit the ground. Wesker put an arm around her waist to help her walk as they walked back down the hill to the bright sunny house.

Stepping through the door, Claire instantly relaxed, feeling at home once again. This was where she finally belonged, at Wesker's side. They were a perfect match now, both virus-induced, capable of terrible things.

Wesker set his briefcase on the table next to the couch, shrugging out of his coat and draping it over the chair. Watching him out of the corner of her eye as he settled down into the same chair, she hesitated, then impulsively kissed his cheek.

Smirking slightly, Wesker looked up at her, cupping her cheek. "Go take your shower, dear heart."

Nodding, she slipped quietly away from him and up the stairs. Wesker watched her go from behind his mirrored glasses, his smirk growing feral, his eyes gleaming.

*****

Claire felt strong, firm hands on her hips as she rinsed herself in the hot water of her shower, pulling her fiery red hair over one shoulder.

"Dear heart," Wesker murmured as he kissed the bare side of her neck in his slow, methodical fashion. His hands pulled her back against his chest under the spray of hot water, slipping over her taut, wet skin.

"I was trying to enjoy my shower," she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as she leaned back against him, her arms twining around his neck behind her, her hips pressed back against his own, his hardness pressed against her.

He chuckled darkly. "And who's to say that you won't enjoy it?" His nose brushed against her ear, making her sigh and snuggle closer. One hand slid up her stomach and the other down her thigh, caressing her soft skin, slipping in the warm water cascading down their bodies.

"You interrupted," she whispered, her knees trembling as his hands brushed over her stomach and up her sides, barely touching her skin. His fingertips felt like fire on her skin, heating her, melting her, inflaming her to him, and only him. His scent filled her nose, intoxicating her, making her fell drunk and dizzy.

"You did leave the door wide open," he pointed out, kissing the sensitive spot behind her ear. "That, to me, merits an invitation. After all, this is my house." His hands whispered over her skin, his lips caressing her neck and shoulder. "Or were you hoping for someone else?"

"Never," she said breathlessly, her eyes fluttering and a small moan escaping her lips as she pressed closer to him, to crawl under his skin and become one with him.

"Good," he said, spinning her around and pushing her back against the shower wall in a fierce kiss, his one hand pinning her own two above her head. His other hand slid up her hip, pulling her against his hard body once again. Claire was completely at his mercy as he kissed her thoroughly. She couldn't have moved even if she wanted to, so trapped as she was by his solidness.

"You're mine!" he growled, biting the tendon in her shoulder, making her writhe against him in pleasure. Claire laughed at throaty, sultry laugh when she felt herself being lifted into his arms urgently and whisked into the bedroom that had become theirs, her eyes still unfocused from his seduction.

The mattress sunk beneath their weight as she cradled the superhuman genius in her arms. "Wesker," she whispered, her eyes reduced to slits in her pleasure as his lips once again slipped across her heated skin. The bedclothes were cool beneath her body as Wesker was hot above her. A shiver skittered across her skin as a perfumed breeze drifted in through the open doors, smelling of the sea and flowers.

"Claire," he murmured, bathing her body with kisses, impervious to the slight draft on his wet skin. Claire's fingers slid through his wet, now-unkempt hair as his lips trailed lower and lower on her skin, small moans and soft sighs slipping from between her lips. She almost cried when she couldn't feel his lips anymore and struggled to open her eyes to look at him.

Her heart almost stopped at what she saw Wesker's burning red eyes. No more were they emotionless and mirror-like, but rather shattered and showing real emotion. Her heart wrenched painfully in her chest as she hesitantly put a hand to his cheek. No one else would have noticed this very slight change in his eyes but her. She had spent so much time staring into his eyes wondering what it was that was there, and this was the last thing she would have ever expected from the tyrant genius. But, as soon as the look was there, it was gone again, and he once more tasted her skin.

He kissed a mark on her right shoulder, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin. "Dear heart, what is this scar from?" he murmured, tracing it with a pale finger, making her shiver deliciously against him again.

Claire struggled to pull her mind from the sensual haze in her head that he had sent her to. "When I was little, Chris tried to teach me how to snowboard. I fell and shattered my shoulder and had to have surgery because it broke through the skin." Her voice was breathy and light.

Wesker snorted softly. "Stupid Chris. Couldn't even take care of you when you were children." He kissed the offending scar and asked again. "And this one?" His fingers brushed over her thigh where a thick ropy scar marred her flesh, much more pink than the rest of her creamy skin, then kissed it slowly, dragging his tongue across the sensitive flesh.

"An accident," she breathed. "I got in an accident on my motorcycle."

Shifting, Wesker kissed her throat again. "And this one?" he asked, slowly turning her over and seeing an ugly purple scar on the back of her left shoulder. It was approximately half the size of his palm and was a dull, ugly purple. As he traced a finger over it, it wasn't smooth like the rest of her skin. It was vaguely lumpy and was much deeper than the rest of her skin.

Claire smiled slightly, her eyes unfocused again. "You. When you found me on Rockfort Island and ground my shoulder into the ground with your boot. There was a jagged rock under my shoulder that tore it open, imbedding it with gravel," she whispered, her voice still light and breathy with pleasure.

Gently, Wesker ran his tongue over the offending mark and whispered, "I am truly sorry, dear heart." His fingers still whispered across her skin, making her shiver with delight.

"Don't be," she breathed. "If none of that had happened, then I wouldn't be here with you now." She turned over to look up at his perfect face, slightly confused as to why he was apologizing. But she was too dazed to spend too much time thinking about it.

Glancing down, she put his hands over the pale, slightly ragged scar beneath her breasts. "And this is the one that made me yours completely." It was the scar left on her body from when Wesker had plunged his hand through her body in an effort to save her from mutating.

Wesker was silent, tracing the contours of her body in the moonlight and watching her reactions, listening to her cries of pleasure, as if to commit them to memory.

"Wesker," she sighed, running her hand through his hair, her nails gently scraping against his scalp as she offered the pale expanse of her neck to his lips.

His lips caressed her skin, his hands pulling her against him with a slow, but firm motion. He trailed from her collarbones up her neck, and when his nose touched her ear, he whispered, "Stay, dear heart."

Claire shivered as his breath tickled her skin, absorbing his words. "Forever," she murmured, completely and exquisitely lost in Wesker.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Coral…?

The days turned into weeks that she spent with Wesker. Some days, he'd stay in his lab all day, and only emerge late into the night. Others, he'd sit in the living room and type away on his computer. Claire would ask small questions about his work, and more often than not, got the same answer; "Claire, you know better than to ask about my work." Then she would shrug and walk away.

The nights were somehow lonelier now that Chris was gone. She would stand on the beach for hours on end staring out over the ocean with tears in her eyes, seeing nothing. Her trance was only broken by Wesker coming out to find her, picking her up and carrying her wordlessly back into the house. Claire could tell that he wasn't happy about it, but neither did he voice a complaint.

One day, while she was wandering through the house on her way out to the beach, Wesker called to her. "Dear heart, quit wandering around listlessly."

She turned toward his voice and saw him leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed, a slight frown etched on his face. His sunglasses were nowhere to be found. Claire bowed her head and muttered an apology. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt you working."

Wesker sight inaudibly. "Dear heart, come here."

Claire drifted towards him, still not looking up. She didn't really feel much of anything anymore. There was still the warmth and feeling she felt for Wesker, but it was buried deep under her grief for her brother. The brother who had abandoned her, disowned her, and then died on her. She was mutely shocked when Wesker wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. Instinctually, her arms slid around his waist and she buried her nose in his shirt, breathing deep the cologne and scent that was exquisitely Wesker.

As she stood there in his embrace, her eyes closed, she felt his lips brush against her exposed neck, making her shiver. Unconsciously, she tilted her head a little farther to give him more access to her skin. Her hands slid up his back and to his shoulders as he nosed aside the collar of her shirt. His tongue swept across her skin and she let out a small moan and shivered against him. As he kissed her neck again, his hands slid up under her shirt to circle her small waist in his large hands, his thumbs gently stroking her silken skin.

Just ask Claire was about to kiss him back, a loud beep emanated from his open laptop behind them in the living room. As solidly as he had been there, touching her and kissing her, suddenly he was gone, and was staring down at the glowing screen of the computer, a frown on his face. Had the computer eyes and any sense of self-preservation, it would have leapt of the table and scuttled out the door.

Sighing mightily, Claire straightened her shirt and hair and drifted out the door, down towards the flowers and the beach.

* * *

Wesker's fists were clenched as he read the data on the screen before him. He was supposed to have his shipment already, and it was delayed yet again, which was highly unacceptable. His fingers drummed on the arm of the chair as he forced himself to loosen his fist. This was why he hated working with underlings. They always managed to somehow forget something or misplace something of vital importance. Or completely disregard the information.

Flipping open his phone, he punched in a number and waited mere seconds for the other end to pick up. There was no greeting or introduction needed. "I need this taken care of immediately. The shipping company seems to have 'misplaced' my order and I want it now. You have two days, Miss Wong," he snapped, his temper flaring dangerously, his eyes flashing.

"Yes, Wesker. Delivered to the same place as usual, I assume?" she asked, a slight crackle of static distorted her voice.

"Of course. Two days, remember. Don't fail me," he snapped, and slammed the phone shut, tossing it on the table next to his computer.

He knew she wouldn't fail him. He paid her too handsomely for that and she relished her job. She was the best, and Wesker would have only the best. He would have his package in a day and a half and he knew it.

* * *

Claire was stripped down and wading through the water up to her knees, once again collecting pretty shells and interesting rocks on the shore. She had quite the collection, but she only kept the prettiest shell and the most interesting rock and tossed the rest back into the ocean when she was done. She put her treasures in a shallow cave at the end of the beach on a rock ledge that made a natural shelf. Eyeing them, she smiled faintly and continued up and down the beach, her eyes glued beneath the water for oddments.

She intentionally left her mind blank, trying not to think of her wretched brother or about the press of Wesker's soft lips against her skin. Both were torture in their own respects. As she swished through the water, a bright blue piece of coral caught her eye, out to the left, too deep for her to reach without dunking under the water. Wading out to where the cool water reached her waist, she dove under the waves her eyes glued on the shimmering blue coral.

It was about the size of her fist as she swam down to it. It was an iridescent blue with tiny little pockmarks like a golf ball covering its surface. Reaching out to pluck it from the ocean floor, she flinched back as something pricked her finger. A drop of blood drifted up in a tiny spiral from the tip of her finger and wafted away in the water as she reached back towards the coral cautiously.

Just as her fingers were about to contact its surface, tiny little spikes shot out of its surface, no longer than a quarter of an inch long. A sudden thought came to her mind, and she gently stroked the back of her finger down one side of it and the small coral seemed to almost shudder and its spikes slowly retracted and it lay quiet. Reaching towards it, she delicately cradled it in her hand as she swam towards the surface again.

She laid partially in the water still, the waves rolling up over her legs, backside and back as she examined the coral before her. It wasn't spongy, but rather hard like a rock. "What are you?" she murmured, running careful fingertips over its surface. It was almost completely smooth, and the pockmarks were only visible, she couldn't feel them. Before she said anything, she felt the coral become rough and sharp and small black dots appeared, but as soon as she spoke, they retreated and it became smooth again.

Stroking it thoughtfully, she let her mind wander as to what kind of coral it could possibly be. She had taken a few classes that had talked about marine biology and they had studied corals and this one looked like nothing she had ever seen. Maybe it wasn't coral after all. Maybe it was a creature of some sort. She listened closer to it with her exceptional hearing, but heard nothing but the surf crashing behind her and the birds in the trees.

"Dear heart, you look like a mermaid, lying there in the surf," Wesker said, striding down the flowered path from the house. As soon as she heard his voice, the little coral in front of her exploded with its little black spikes again. She yanked her hand back just in time to avoid getting poked again.

"I found this while I was swimming," she said, pointing at the shiny blue item in front of her, its spines still protruding dangerously. "It looks like coral, but I've never heard of coral with black spikes coming out of it. But watch this…" She stroked the back of the lump with her finger, and it shivered again, spikes receding back into itself. "I've never seen this before. It's so odd."

Wesker stared down at the shiny blueness at his bare feet. "I have no idea what it is," he said, a slight frown on his face. At his voice, the spikes once again exploded into being. "Apparently it prefers you to me. My area of expertise lies in the bio lap, not beneath the ocean."

Claire looked at it again, stroking it back to its smoothness. "It's so weird…" she trailed off.

"Indeed," Wesker said, slipping his shirt off and placing it on a rock a few feet away, out of the way of the ocean spray. "Care to join me for a swim or are you too enthralled with your new pet rock?" he asked, shedding his pants in a way that made Claire blush and pretend not to look. Stepping up on a rock, he dove gracefully into the water, but didn't resurface again.

Suddenly, Claire felt something latch onto her ankle and drag her down into the water. She panicked for a moment, till she whirled around and caught Wesker's vibrant eyes smirking at her through the bubbles. Her own green ones glared daggers. Then he was gone, swimming away from her out into the deeper water.

The deepest part of the little cove was easily twenty feet deep. It was about twelve feet deep just before the bottom sheared away to twenty feet below the surface. The entire bottom of the cove was littered with shells, coral and rock. Claire had not gone to the deepest part yet, and was still combing the shallower water for interesting objects. As she made to go back to the shallow water, Wesker grabbed her wrist and pointed at the surface, indicating he wanted her to join him at the surface.

As they broke the water, Claire used the water to push her hair back from her face. It fanned out behind her and floated around her like a fiery cloud. As she opened her mouth, Wesker spoke. "Follow me," he said, and turned, diving back under the water. Sighing slightly, Claire took a deep breath and dove down after him.

She was slightly nervous as he headed towards the deepest part, showing no intention of slowing his progress as he swam. As they went deeper, Claire was afraid that her ears would pop and she'd end up with a migraine and an ear infection. She hated deep water for that same reason before she had changed. Now, as she swam, her ears didn't pop, and she didn't get a migraine. Her ears felt a little fuzzy, but they didn't hurt.

When they reached the bottom, Claire's eyes went wide with what she saw. There was a cave. Not just a normal cave, either. The entrance was an arched doorway about seven feet tall, caved with intricate runes and designs she didn't recognize. It was beautiful in a very archaic way. There was lichen growing in the cracks and crevices of the arch, waving in the current, turning the dark grey rock slightly green.

Wesker nodded towards the opening before them, and swam through it, Claire close behind him. There were fallen rocks littering the floor that had fallen from the walls. But as she looked closer, the walls were also covered in carved designs. She saw what looked like dragons and mermaids and some creature that looked like an octopus with too many arms. The carvings were bordered with some form of writing that Claire couldn't make out in the murky water. The light from the surface was fading the farther in they went.

Just as her lungs were starting to want to breathe air again, her head broke the surface of the water. Wesker was already sitting on the ledge, his feet still in the water as he watched her swim towards him. They were in a sort of cave under the island. As Claire looked past Wesker, the far end of the cave disappeared into the gloom. Pulling herself up onto the ledge with Wesker, her eyes roamed the cavern.

The carvings were in here too; up the walls, across the ceiling, even covering the floor. Moss was hanging in long tendrils from the ceiling, dripping quietly in the dark. Claire twisted to her feet and drifted towards the wall to trace a finger over the ridges and grooves. As she walked along the wall in the near darkness, her eyes made out a familiar shape. As she got closer, she saw the shape suddenly grow spikes.

The make-shift shelf that was holding the spiky creature held eight more of them, though Claire couldn't tell what color they were. A small smile beginning to grow on her face, she reached out and stroked the back of the first one. When it shivered and became smooth again, Claire grinned, and proceeded to the next one. That one had the same reaction as the first. As she continued down the line, all but one reacted to her touch, leaving her with a slightly bloodied finger.

"Wesker, this place is amazing!" Claire said, returning to his side to dangle her feet in the water again, sucking on her injured finger. She stared at the ceiling again, trying to make out the carvings above her. In the back of her mind she wished for a flashlight or something, but was content to squint through the murk for the time being. "How did you know this place was here?"

Wesker smirked. "Believe it or not, but I do swim alone on occasion. I was merely curious as to why the ocean floor dropped off so suddenly, and this is what I found. It will give you something to do instead of moping around the house, will it not?" Claire didn't answer; she was too busy staring at the walls around her. "I take that as a yes then," he chuckled, watching her out of the corner of his eye. "Well, dear heart, we must be getting back. I'm expecting a phone call and, believe it or not, I have something for you. It should help keep you busy as well."

Claire looked at him suspiciously when he stood up and dove back into the water towards the exit. She slid back into the water, her red hair closing over her head as she submerged.

Something for her, huh? That should be interesting…

Back on the beach, Claire scooped up her cute little coral with the spikes and followed Wesker into the house. The longer she held her coral, the more she realized it was very subtly vibrating. Cocking an eyebrow at it, she set it on the bed as she rummaged through the closet for a dress to pull over her head. Having a girly moment, she twirled around, her skirt flaring out almost perfectly perpendicular to the floor. She cradled the blue coral in her hands as she made her way back down the stairs to meet Wesker.

"Why are you carrying that stupid piece of coral around with you?" Wesker asked as she strode into the room.

The spikes on her coral burst out again at Wesker's voice, and Claire frowned at him. "Because, Mister-I-know-everything, I think its alive. I don't think it's coral. I plan on studying it. Besides, it's cute, in a very rock-ish sort of way, don't you think?" She stroked the back of it, making its spikes retract once again.

Wesker gave her a very odd look. "Dear heart, rocks are not, as you say, cute, in anyway. They're rocks, compressed dirt and minerals. Besides, I thought it was coral?"

She absently stroked the back of it with her fingertips, giving him a dirty look. "I don't know what it is. But I plan on finding out. There were more of them in the cave back there. All but one of them calmed down once I stroked them. I want to go back and study them some time." She sat down in the chair opposite of him, settling the creature-thing in her lap, where it vibrated gently. "Here," she said. "Feel this; it's vibrating." She took his hand in hers and gently placed it on top of its smooth blue back.

Wesker cocked an eyebrow at it, then snatched his hand back as the spikes slowly protruded, a very faint growl coming from the creature. "Well, I sincerely doubt that this is coral now. What type of coral has barbs and growls?" he said, sitting back down with his laptop securely in his lap. "Regardless, I didn't ask you to come in just to discuss your pet rock. As I said, I have something for you that will help cure your aimless wandering and your boredom." He pushed a nondescript box she hadn't noticed towards her with his toe, a smirk on his lips.

Setting her pet on the glass table between them, she knelt down on the floor, curiosity racing through her. What would Wesker possibly get her? A thousand thoughts raced through her head as she slit the tape holding the box closed and rummaged through the packaging. Her fingertips touched smooth, satiny plastic. She was pleasantly surprised when she pulled out a shiny blue laptop. Just by looking at it, she could tell it was expensive, and knowing Wesker, it was top of the line, the best anyone could offer. She could almost guarantee he had added his own little perks as well.

Smiling brilliantly, she set her laptop next to her pet rock, and wiggled herself into his lap between him and his own laptop. "Thank you!" she exclaimed, kissing his cheek and smiling broadly, her emerald eyes shining. "I'm going to use this and research that cave under the beach! Thank you so much!"

She kissed his cheek again but this time he turned his head and she met his soft lips instead. His hand slid up to cup the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pressed his lips to hers. His other hand slid his computer down off his lap, and pulled Claire tighter against his body as his tongue flicked against her lips, then slid seductively against her own when she granted him access. Her arms slowly came around his neck as Wesker thoroughly kissed her.

"You're welcome, dear heart," he murmured, kissing her throat. The computer was something to keep her distracted, as well as kissing her into a haze.

Wesker won this go-round.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Control

It was a rare day when the clouds opened and poured down on their lonely island. Today was one such day. Claire sat on the porch, shielded from the wind and rain by the twining vines overhead and draped down the walls.

Staring intently at her computer screen, she slowly catalogued the information she had gathered on the spiked coral. She had deduced that the warm colored ones were male, and the cool colored ones were female. The one that sat next to her computer was a purplish blue now that it was dry and out of the water. While she had be excited about the coral and her findings, Wesker was only amused in the fact that she was entertained.

"Why would I care what lay beneath the waves when there are whole worlds within a laboratory that need researching?" he asked one night over the top of his laptop. Claire was sitting on the floor at his feet, sketching the coral in a notebook, talking mostly to herself, fully aware he was listening. His sunglasses were pushed down on his nose, his piercing eyes glowing over them.

Claire wrinkled her nose at him. "You have your research, I have mine. Besides, I don't think you'd appreciate me following you around all the time asking about yours when you'll just tell me that I'm not allowed to know." Finishing the final touches on her drawing, she placed the coral in a dish of seawater on the coffee table in front of them. She stood then, a rush of fluid movement and graceful curves, her arms arching over her head as she stretched.

Snapping the lid shut on his computer, Wesker deposited it on the coffee table next to the coral and stood glaring down at her lithe form. "You know you aren't to ask me about my research, dear heart," he said without malice. Reaching out, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his hard body. He knew what he did to her. His body had the same reaction to hers. The smell that was distinctly Claire assaulted his nose, making his eyes burn brighter.

Claire nuzzled into his neck, inhaling his scent. She had lost count of the days she had been with him. Ever since she had said goodbye to Chris, then losing Chris in a plane crash… Her heart still hadn't healed from his betrayal and his death. No forgiveness, no family. Wesker was all she had left in the world.

Nipping the skin below her ear, Wesker murmured, "We're leaving the island for a few days tomorrow morning."

Claire's eyes fluttered open at that. Since when did they leave the island, and since when did Wesker take her with him?

She turned in his embrace to look up into his glittering eyes. "Where are we going?" she asked, puzzled, stroking her fingers down the side of his face gently.

Wesker chuckled darkly. "I have a meeting of sorts in Cairo. No, don't ask me what it's for. It's none of your business." She had tried to interrupt and ask him what he needed to go to a meeting for. Most of his meetings were conducted over the phone, occasionally via computer. Never face to face since they had been on the island.

Egypt. In August.

Ew.

Claire sighed. Egyptian desert in August, even with her new tolerance to temperatures, it was still going to be a miserable trip. Stuffy and boring, sitting in waiting rooms and lobbies waiting for him to conduct his meetings. Dress clothes. No jeans and boots. Reaching up, she placed a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. "How long are we going to be gone?" she asked, turning to close her own computer, stowing it in its case.

Wesker picked his up, locking it into his briefcase, and starting towards the lab door beneath the stairs. "Three days. Not one more."

She shivered at the chill in his voice. Rarely did she hear his voice so cold now. Only when he'd had a bad phone call or email was he so short and reverted back to the Wesker that terrified her. Those are the times when she drifted out of the house, avoiding him, her heart heavy with loss. Those were also the times when she reflected on the predicament her life was in.

Chris had died in a plane crash. She had no more family. Her parents dead when she was a child. No close relatives, and friends that had been loyal to Chris. Except Leon. And it was his fault she had been taken to Wesker. It had been HIS idea. No longer did she hate him for it, but it made her sad every time she thought about it.

She was also no longer truly human. She and Wesker were the only two alive on the entire planet that were alike. Freaks. But they found companionship and maybe, at least on Claire's part, love. Acceptance to be who, and what, she was. Granted, her strength and swiftness were better than when she was a human. She could see, hear, and smell many times greater than she could as a human. Nothing tasted like she remembered though. It was a small, somewhat sad sacrifice for her new power. Ice cream no longer exploded in her mouth with flavor, rather she had to think of the way it used to taste to her because she could bare detect the vanilla much less the chill of the delicious treat.

Dressed smartly in black slacks that hugged her lean legs and rear, she buttoned the last button on her dress shirt, also black. Snorting softly to herself, she eyed her figure in the mirror, noting her penchant for dark colors the same as Wesker. Toeing her shoes onto her feet, she swept her hair into a ponytail high on the back of her head.

Wesker was sitting in the living room once more, his fingers tapping against the keyboard of his computer fervently.

"Ready?" she asked quietly, eyeing him over her shoulder as she straightened her hair in the mirror. His eyes met hers, red piercing green, as he looked up from his work. He nodded, putting his computer back in its safe briefcase shell, stretching, making his elbows crack. Tugging his sunglasses out of his shirt pocket, he placed them on his nose, smirking at her. He slipped his black trench coat over his shoulders and picked up the case.

Picking up her own briefcase and slipping on her sleek silver sunglasses and her own black coat, she followed Wesker out the door, up to the helipad on the roof. A small black helicopter waited for them, no pilot in sight. Claire looked around vaguely, but still didn't see anyone.

"Where the pilot?" she questioned, striding up to the shiny whirlybird.

Wesker looked mildly affronted that she had even asked. "You wound me, dear heart. I am more than capable of flying us anywhere. In anything. You'll get to your destination safely," he said with an intensity that surprised her. He reached up to yank open he passenger door of the little helicopter, offering to hand her up into the cockpit. Smiling broadly, she took his hand and settled into the seat, buckling the harness around her.

Slamming the door, he strode around to the left side and climbed in, strapping their briefcases into a luggage compartment between the seats. Winding his arms through his own harness, he flipped switches and levers, then slipping headphones over his ears. He signaled for her to do the same. Suddenly, his voice entered her ears through the headset, sounding crackled and garbled. "Claire. Give me your arm."

She looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Why?" she sounded suspicious.

Wesker sighed. "Dear heart, let's not make this any more difficult than it has to be, alright?" He pulled a small syringe case from his pocket. "Give me your arm." He reached over to grasp her wrist, pulling her gently closer to him.

Claire glared at him. Oh, was he going to get an earful when they landed. As she felt the effects of the drugs taking over her senses, she reminded herself that she was angry with him. The last thing she saw was the flash of red eyes behind dark glasses.

* * *

Wesker was slightly amused at the black look she gave him and knew he'd end up with an earful later. Of course, he's pretend he was listening, she'd be placated, and he could continue his work in peace. Shifting, he settled himself in for a six hour flight to the nearest airport, then a twelve hour flight to Cairo.

The injection he gave Claire would only last for three, but by then they would be far enough away for her to still not know the location of his island. He wouldn't take any chances in someone taking her away from him. Torturing her to get his location. Better she not know.

And for some reason, the thought of losing Claire made Wesker sick. If anyone ever took her away from him, there would be no power strong enough to stop his retribution. He would mow down everything and everyone in his path. She was his. And no one touched something that belonged to him.

* * *

Three hours later, Wesker heard a slight moan from his companion, signaling that she was beginning to stir. "Asshole…" she muttered, rubbing her eyes.

"Watch your tone, Ms. Redfield," he growled, his eyes flicking over to her angry form. She gave him the finger. She hadn't been this angry in a very long time.

He grabbed the offending digit and twisted her wrist around, staring at her. "I would not recommend doing that again."

Tears began forming in the corners of her eyes as he increased the pressure on her wrist. "Alright! Alright. Fine. Whatever," she muttered, wiping her eyes and avoiding his.

The next three hours were spend in a haze of pain. Claire's wrist was still hurting from Wesker twisting it. _A little over the top, don't you think?_ She hissed at him in her head, cradling her arm. How could he? After everything they'd been through in the last few months, she was disappointed at his reaction. Surely she was more than just another asset to him. But then again, this was Albert Wesker. No one ever knew exactly where they stood with him. She was no different.

Looking out the window again, they were flying low over an airport runway, low buildings off to the right. Wesker landed the helicopter on the roof of a building with fences surrounding it. Powering off the machine, he pulled himself out of the harness and seat. As he stepped down, he cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders.

Wiggling out of her own seat, she sat down on the step of the cockpit, reaching back in to pull their briefcases free. Her wrist was still twisted protectively against her chest. Suddenly, he was there pulling her gently to him. His fingertips skimmed her bare skin, over the offended joint. Staring into her eyes over his sunglasses, he raised her skin to his lips.

Claire's breath caught in her throat as she watched, transfixed. Her eyes were wide as she felt his soft lips press against her skin warmly. She gasped and twitched as she felt his tongue flick against her skin. "Wes-" she began, her brain unable to form coherent thoughts.

"Hush," he murmured, scattering kisses over the injured tissues. "I apologize for my behavior earlier, Claire." The use of her name had her heart skipping a beat. "It was uncalled for and unnecessary. We can discuss this matter further upon our return home."

Claire reached out with her good arm and grabbed the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer to her. Her lips crashed against his in a surge of emotion. This man was her poison and her antidote. She hated him as much as she loved him. Wesker's tongue slid against her silkily as he cradled her face in his hands, pressing her body against the hard metal. She sighed as his lips trailed across her cheek. She groaned aloud, her fingernails clawing into his should, when he gently bit down on the spot behind her ear.

Chuckling blackly, he murmured, "We have a meeting to attend in twelve hours. I suggest you collect your briefcase and we relocate to the plane, yes?"

She stared up at him, still lost in a sensual haze. "Wha-?" she asked stupidly, then her eyes focused again. "Uh, right." She twisted out of his grip and yanked the cases free. As she stood up, Wesker was straightening his hair and slipping sunglasses over his face. She pushed her own on, silently handing him his own case.

The helipad suddenly jerked, slowly lowering into a shed, the hole above them sealing shut. Claire looked at Wesker with trepidation. He smiled darkly when he noticed her unease. "Have no fear, dear heart. I'm not trapping you underground." He motion her down a flight of steps at the edge of the platform when they stopped moving. Down a walkway, it ended at a door. Swiping an ID card through the slot, the light flashed green and clicked open.

The sudden sunlight flashed in her eyes as he motioned her through the door again. One more flight of stairs and they were on the tarmac, looking at a small plane. This was also black, no discerning symbols or lettering on it that she could see.

Two men in black holding what looked like assault rifles stood at the bottom of a small flight of steps into the cabin of the small plane. Claire eyed them nervously as she ascended the stairs. The door to the cockpit was closed, leading her into the main cabin. Everything was furnished in rich dark leathers and dark woods. Eight seats in all, and no one else was on the plane.

Wesker stepped up behind her as she stopped at the top step, looking around. "Yes, we're the only people on this flight," he answered her unasked question. "And no, I'm not piloting this one." He brushed past her and settled into a seat facing the cockpit in the furthest seat from the door, sliding his briefcase between the seats.

Claire dropped into the seat across from him, her chin propped against her hand, staring at him through her sunglasses. For a moment, they just eyed each other, then Claire sighed, puffing hair out of her face. "Whatever," she muttered under her breath.

"Is there a problem?" Wesker asked, quirking and eyebrow at her, his smile dangerous. He felt the pressure of their plane lifting off the pavement.

She glared at him for a moment. "I was going to be mad at you for hurting my wrist and being a jerk earlier, but I guess your apology made up for it." She looked flustered. "Okay, maybe more than made up for it. But still!" she trailed off, flopping into her seat.

He chuckled, his eyes glinting. He knew what flustered her, and he enjoyed her flustered. The way her eyes snapped, her cheeks reddening in fury, as she clenched her little fists. Her breathing heavy, nostrils flared, eyes dilated, chest heaving. There was another instance when he wanted to see her like his, but now was not the time. Perhaps once they returned to their island, after business was taken care of.

He looked at her over his steepled fingers. "I asked you to accompany me to this meeting for a reason." She stared at him. Rarely did he ever talk to her about his work. "I need your help."

"What does the almighty Albert Wesker need with little ol' me?"

"I need you to be my assistant. This meeting is with a very large pharmaceutical company who would like to acquire my expertise."

She was silent for a moment. "So… What does that have to do with me?"

"I need you to keep an eye on the other researchers around me. I need to focus on my work, and I would be able to work more efficiently if I didn't have to constantly look over my shoulder," he explained, still eyeing her.

"Surely the great Albert Wesker doesn't need a body guard, does he?" she scoffed.

"Need? Absolutely not. Appreciate? Undoubtedly. You do not realize the immensity of the research project I am trying to conduct, dear heart. And do not call me that again," he growled, taking his sunglasses off and placing them in his pocket. His eyes glowed menacingly at her.

She rolled her eyes. "Call you what? The Great Albert Wesker? What are you going to do? Punish me?"

"Indeed," he murmured, pulling her across the table so quickly she hadn't realized what had happened. She was pressed between the hard table and his equally hard chest. His fingers trailed up her sides, ghosting over the bare skin bared at her hip as her shirt rode up. Her green eyes flared as she stared into his crimson eyes, his lips slanting over hers in a breathtakingly powerful kiss. His tongue slid against her lips as he demanded entrance to her mouth.

Claire sighed as his fingers slid beneath the silk of her shirt, brushing her skin with gloved fingertips. Then his lips were caressing her neck, listening to the soft sighs and moans that slid past her lips. His teeth nipped, she shuddered. His tongue traced patterns into her skin, she melted. She tangled her fingers in his hair as he tugged her earlobe between his teeth, biting down not quite painfully.

Eyeing her carefully, he bit the middle finger of his glove, pulling it from his hand. Claire's eyes darkened as she watched his tongue flick against the soft leather, her muscles twitching as his teeth nipped to pull it from his skin. She wanted her skin to be beneath his mouth, not some damnable glove. She watched as he did the same to the other hand, her breathing uneven.

Wesker slid his bare fingers beneath her coat, effectively divesting her of it to fall in a heap on the floor by his feet. Her lips crashed back into his, nipping and biting at his lips, making small needy noises. His hand tangled in her hair, forcing her head back as he nipped her throat. He chuckled darkly as her hips pressed against him, her fingers gripping his shoulders fiercely.

"Wesker," she moaned as his lips pressed against the skin of her chest. A finger came up to hook the buttons of her shirt, letting them fall open one by one. "Only the finest silks and laces should ever touch this skin," he said heatedly, tracing the lacey edge of her black bra over a breast. His breath tickled her skin, making her shiver. Her shirt fell to the crook of her elbows as she sat sprawled across his lap. The tip of his tongue darted out to taste her skin. He hummed with satisfaction when he tasted her sweat. It tasted of lust, pain and longing. But mostly, it tasted of her.

That distinct way she smelled. Heady and intoxicating. That specific way she tasted. Almost sweet, almost bitter. Just like the girl herself. Exquisite.

Claire cradled his head to her breast as he gently raked his nails down her back. She moaned loudly, her body convulsing with pleasure. His nails traced the same path, this time he laved his tongue over her nipple, still hidden within the black lace. "Wesker…!" she gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair, pressing him against her flesh.

Eyes flashing, one hand slipped up between them and yanked the cups of her bra down, shoving her breasts up.

His lips closed over one rigid peak as his hand came up to claim the other. His tongue swirled over her nipple. Claire cried out in pleasure as his teeth gently closed over it, nipping gently. He tugged on her nipple between his fingers and thumb, enjoying the way her hips unconsciously bucked against him. His lips left her breast only to latch onto its neglected twin. Wesker's fingers brushed the button on her pants, suddenly they were shoved down her hips. The table was cold against her hot skin.

His fingers slid beneath her panties, gently stroking, teasing her. She shuddered, a low moan escaping her lips. Her eyes rolled back as the pleasure intensified. Panting, she pushed her body closer to his, trying to feel as much of his hardness pressed against her as was possible. And there was definitely another hardness she was interested in, as well. She could feel it pressed against her thigh as she straddled his lap, the table pressing uncomfortably into her bum cheek.

Watching her writhing on his lap as his fingers touched her silken skin made him hard. A low groan escaped his lips as she pressed against him. His fingers pressed into her warmth, watching her shudder and her eyes fall shut. "Oh- Wes-Wesk-er…" She murmured, her voice thick with pleasure.

He chuckled darkly again. Suddenly, he gripped her against him, his fingers moving more frantically against her. His lips found her nipple again and he tugged it between his teeth. "Ah!" Claire moaned, her hand twitching in his hair. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and, burying his face in her breasts, ground his hips into hers.

* * *

Wesker couldn't take it anymore. He was so aroused it hurt. Her breasts were proudly displayed before him. His eyes swept down her body as she pressed against his hand, willing him faster, harder. Deeper. As his fingers slid between her quivering thighs, he felt a twitch against his thigh. This had to end. Soon.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and ground his hips into hers. He hadn't ever been this hard in his memorable past. It felt like fire and ice. Magnificent and torturous. Every time she brushed against it, it was all he could do to not pin her to the table, rip her pants away and bury himself deep within her. Never had he felt so out of control as he did with her.

"What have you done to me, dear heart?"


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16: The Land of Sand

"What have you done to me, dear heart?"

The words were ripped from his lips as he pressed himself against her. The redhead moaned loudly, her fingers clenched in his shirt.

Suddenly, Claire felt something vibrate under her thigh that was wantonly thrown over Wesker's hip. She struggled to pull herself out of the fog he had put her in as he shifted her over to the seat next to him. His hand was firmly clamped around her thigh as he dug into his pocket, the look in his eyes dangerous.

"What?" he snapped, his voice like ice. His eyes flashed in anger when he heard the voice in the phone.

Claire yanked her pants up again, feeling humiliated that she had been so thoroughly ravished by him. And it had been wonderful. All focused on her. And that groan before his phone rang. Wow. She, Claire Redfield, had made him lose control. She straightened her shirt and bra, sliding over his lap with a small peck on his cheek. Standing, she tugged her shirt down and headed to the bathroom.

Looking in the mirror, she could see her hair hanging in damp tendrils across her forehead. There were red marks on her throat and chest from his teeth. She shuddered with the memory as she traced an imprint of his teeth. As she watched, they slowly grew fainter and fainter until they faded away, leaving her with just the memory. Her lips were swollen from his ardent kisses. And somehow she knew; she didn't want to be anywhere else. Ever. Trapped between Wesker and the table, she had never felt more alive. More needed or wanted. Her heart thundered in her chest at the realization. Wherever Wesker was, was now home to her.

Straightening her hair, she left the bathroom and slipped into the seat across from him. She frowned when he was already back to work on his laptop, not looking up at her when she sat. Rolling her eyes, she pulled out her own computer and went to work on her coral research. After a few minutes, she slid her leg against his, and not getting it shoved away, slipped it into his lap.

He never looked up at her, but his fingertips brushed her ankle lightly, then went back to typing on his computer. Claire's grin rivaled the Cheshire cat's.

* * *

The lid of his laptop snapping shut stirred Claire from her computer. Rubbing her eyes, she realized they were about to land in Egypt. Somehow, in the long twelve hour flight, both of her small feet and ended up cradled in his lap, one hand wrapped protectively around an ankle.

Smirking, he gently pushed them from his lap, standing as the plane taxied down a runway towards a hangar. He handed her coat back, and snapped his briefcase shut. He fixed her with a piercing stare as she packed her computer away.

"I have something for you," he said unexpectedly. He pulled another case from beneath his seat and set it on the table. This one was a dark metal, two basic latches holding it close. Flicking them open, he pulled out a handgun. It was a dark, sleek Samurai Edge. He removed the clip and pulled back the slide, eyeing down the barrel.

"I know you know how to use one of these, Miss Redfield," he said, holding it out to her, stock first, a dangerous smile drifting across his lips. Claire took it from him, eyeing the elegant, if large, gun in her hand. Smirking, she took the gun apart in seconds, each piece laid out on the table for his inspection. Then, she reassembled it, and slapped the clip in, aiming it between his eyes.

His face froze, his eyes flashing dangerously. Claire just smiled at him, her own eyes glinting though her sunglasses. "Obviously."

"Don't make me regret giving you that," he said coldly, taking it from her hand and laying it on the table again. "Don't do anything your idiot brother would have done."

She frowned slightly at his words as she strapped on the holster beneath her coat and left arm. Two extra clips went on her belt. "I would never," she murmured, slipping the gun beneath her arm, securing it.

Wesker pulled a matching gun out of the case and slipped it beneath his own coat. She noticed however, that his had a small logo on the stock; S.T.A.R.S. and three small stars. Snatching his case up once more, he strode to the door, releasing the seal and stepping into the bright sunshine. He descended the steps pushed up against the plane. When he noticed that she hadn't immediately followed him, he looked back. He saw the slight trepidation in her face and reached a hand up to guide her down.

Claire was touched by the gesture. Once in the sun, her nose was assaulted by the stench of jet fuel and hot tarmac. Shaking her head to clear her sense, she followed him through the heated air into the sleek Audi that was parked in front of them. The car had all the same predatory grace that the man driving it did. Sophisticated, dark, erotic even.

Effortlessly, he guided the vehicle out of the airfield and out into the teeming traffic of Cairo.

* * *

Claire was entranced by the people swarming down the sidewalks and spilling into the streets. People selling fruits and vegetables like they had for thousands of years. Dazzling birds in cages, elaborate woven rugs, spices scenting the air, even the smell of animals brought to market. Beneath everything, she could smell the stench of too many humans packed into a single space. Wrinkling her nose, she turned to Wesker.

"How far away is it?" she asked idly, settling her coat about her knees.

Wesker eyed her sideways. "We'll be there momentarily. Don't fret."

Claire stuck her tongue out at him, her face crumpling slightly. She was silent for a moment, then turned away from him. "What if I'm not good enough?" she murmured, ignoring the fear in her voice. "I'm not even sure what you want me to do."

Wesker was slightly surprised at her admission. For always being such a strong woman, this was not something he expected from her. "I do not allow for failure, Miss Redfield." She turned to look at him. "If I had any doubts of you playing your part perfectly, I never would have considered letting you leave the island." The car rolled to a stop at an intersection. Wesker removed his glasses and fixed her with his piercing, heated gaze. "I do not accept failure," he repeated.

Claire swallowed and looked at her hands.

Traffic moved on and so did they. Minutes later, he guided the car through an iron gate and down a shaded lane. A large white building loomed before them. It vaguely reminded Claire of the White House in Washington, D.C.

Wesker guided the car to a parking spot in front of the glass doors. Instead of going through the doors at the front of the building, he stepped to the side, off to the side. He stopped outside a nondescript door and motioned for her to step closer to him. Without warning, his arm snaked around her waist, pressing their bodies closer. Then she felt his hot breath on her ear. "We need to get past security. Walk through this door and _run_ past the station. Do you understand me?" His voice brooked no argument.

She nodded and he slipped away, in through the door. As she watched, he disappeared and reappeared down the hallway behind a pillar. Claire felt nervous. How was she going to do that? No one told her how to use her powers, and now he just wants her to use them? She was going to kill him when this was over. Nervously, she entered the door. Clenching her eyes shut, she willed herself to be at Wesker's side.

And suddenly, she reappeared beneath his arm, curled into his side. He smirked down at her. "See? Easy enough a Redfield can do it," he teased, pulling away from her warmth, stroking her cheek in passing.

She was about to protest until a tall leggy brunette walked past them wearing clothes much too revealing to be in a research facility. The neckline plunged beneath her very ample breasts, and a slit in a very short skirt. She looked like she should have a long cigarette sticking out of her mouth, slouched seductively across a divan in candlelight. Her hair was twisted elegantly up on the top of her head, golden earrings flashing in the light. What kind of researchers did they employ at this facility? Claire wondered.

"Ah, Mister Albert Wesker, I presume?" she purred in a voice accented heavily in Italian. Her lips pouted over his name seductively. She held her hand out for him to kiss it, but Claire was savagely pleased when he ignored it, adjusting his glasses instead.

"Indeed. Dear heart, this is Excella Gionne, head of Tricell. Miss Gionne, this is my assistant, Miss Claire Redfield," he gestured to each woman in turn. She was happy to notice that there was a caress in the way he said her name.

Excella looked at her as if she were something unpleasant she had stepped in. "Charmed," she snapped, focusing all her attention back on Wesker. She oozed with simpering hospitality as she clung to his arm, leading him further down the hall, her breasts pressed against his arm brazenly.

Wesker was irritated. This woman had invaded his personal space and didn't seem to care when he tried to shake her off. He heard Claire stomping down the hall behind them. Imagining the look of hatred on her face, he smirked. He had seen that look a few times and it was definitely something a normal human being should fear.

Reaching two large wooden doors engraved with the Tricell logo, Excella removed her claws from Wesker's arm and led them into a large board room. There were nine chairs on the far side of the table, all but one that was occupied. Excella quickly filled the empty chair, crossing her legs and giving Wesker a heated stare.

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Claire looked around the room. There were six men and three women, including the vile Excella. There was a smaller table set up separately between where they stood and where the board members sat. Wesker stepped up to it and placed his briefcase upon it, then seated himself in one of the two chairs provided. Claire quickly followed suit.

Wesker cleared his throat. "As we both know, you're looking for a new researcher. I, luckily for you, fill the description," he stated, his voice cool and calculating.

One of the male board members cleared his throat and address Wesker. "What are you bringing to this company to make it worth our time?" he asked, staring at him.

Wesker smirked. "You need me. No one is capable of doing the research I am, and you can supply me with the funds needed. I am the world's leading researcher in biochemisty, bioengineering and bioweaponry."

Claire felt her skin prickle as he stated the facts. He was a genius, she knew, but it still surprised her when she thought about just how much he knew. She tuned them out as they started going back and forth about negotiations. Remember why Wesker brought her along, Claire scrutinized all of the members of the board. There were eight actual board members, not including the brunette bimbo from earlier. The man who had asked Wesker the question was a Doctor Isaacs. He was middle age and had brown hair. She decided right away that she didn't trust him.

As she studied them, she remembered certain facts about them. Doctor Richards was the fat bald man with glasses who had asthma. She could hear his lungs rattling as he breathed. He seemed like a pushover as he nervously eyed the other board members. Doctor Johnson was short and blonde, nothing like the blond Grecian god at her side. He gave of a distinctly nerdy feeling, complete with pocket protector. Doctor Gabriel was a slight Asian woman, her hair cropped close to her face. There was something missing in her that made her human. A strange deadness from her.

Claire shuddered and looked away. She let the conversation swirl around them as she focused on the rest of the board members, her ears recognizing the small background sounds and filing them away in her brain as normal. Irish Doctor Jacobs was now addressing Wesker, his red hair falling boyishly into his eyes. He had the face of a predator, small and mean. He looked rather like a rat. She felt the vibration of his response, but not the words. Doctor Phillips, despite his name, was a very large Russian man who enjoyed his drink. Claire could detect the faint smell of vodka from his skin. He was easily the oldest man in the room. The only British doctor in the whole room, Doctor Ricardo, stroked his mustache as he listened quietly to the proceedings. The only other female board member in the room was now addressing Wesker, a certain Doctor Samuel.

There was a certain hostility in the room. The smallest portion coming from Wesker himself, Claire was surprised. There was obviously an underlying reason for them to come to Albert Wesker. It made her uncomfortable, not that she let it show on her face.

The two sat in front of them in creepy unison. _What's with the glasses?_ Excella wondered as she stared at them. They were the epitome of deadly grace. They accented each other perfectly. She got the niggling sensation that he was not a man to cross. She could see herself reflected coldly in their matching glasses that hid their faces. Usually a good reader of people, these two were offering no emotions. It was like staring at two statues. It was vaguely unnerving. But that Albert man…

He was something else, wasn't he? All that muscle beneath sleek Armani. She wondered idly if he was a punishing in bed as he was staring at her. She shivered at the prospect. She'd just have to add a bonus to his already substantial signing package they were going to offer him. Of course, this one wouldn't be on paper. Rather, between the expensive silk sheets of her enormous bed. She bit her lip.

Claire glared at the barely clad woman facing them. She could hear the slight racing of her heart and see her biting her lip as she stared seductively at her man.

Wait.

Her man?

Since when did Claire give a damn who was looking at Wesker? She realized that after spending all those months alone with him made her selfish. Claire wanted to rip Excella's eyes from her sockets and grind them to a pulp beneath her heel. Wesker was hers. No one else got to think those sinfully dark thoughts about him but her. Her hand tightened on the arm of the chair.

Then suddenly Wesker's voice cut through her anger. "Thank you for your time. You will hear from me within the week." He dismissed them from him as though he were conducting the interview. Standing, he picked up his briefcase and looked down at her. "Dear heart?"

She stood, snatching her case up with more force than was strictly necessary. The rest of the board members filed out the door silently, eyeing both of them warily.

A voice behind them stopped them. "Mister Wesker? I would like to speak with you in private," Excella purred, sashaying towards them. It was all Claire could do to keep from beating her face in with the case in her hand.

Wesker sighed slightly. "Dear heart, if you'd be so kind as to wait outside the door," he said, opening the door for her. Her coattails flashed past her knees as she exited, fixing him with an angry stare.

As the door snapped shut again, he turned to find her closer than before, leaning provocatively against the table they had talked over. "I have a favor to ask you," she breathed, hitching the skirt of her extremely short dress up higher and crossing her legs.

"What can I do for you, Miss Gionne?" Wesker said coldly, adjusting his sunglasses. He had no time for this woman and was near on to telling her so.

"It has come to my attention that one of my labs has been infiltrated and destroyed."

"And why would I care?" he asked, irritated.

"Because," she said as she slunk closer. She picked up a folder from the table. "I think you might want to see this." Excella pressed herself against him again, handing him the folder. Eying her angrily, he flipped open the folder and stopped.

Wesker looked up at her again. "I will look into this. It will not impact my decision in the least, no matter what I find."

Excella smiled lazily up at him. "I would expect nothing less. Perhaps I can reward you… Personally. Once the job is finished," she murmured, running her fingertip up his chest beneath his jacket.

Wesker said nothing else to her, but thrust her away from him. He placed the folder in his briefcase and stepped out the door, shutting it firmly behind him.

Excella smiled a deadly smile in the dark. This was going to be fun.

She knew this terrible, dangerous man's weak spot.

* * *

Claire stood outside the door, staring down the hallway away from the door he exited from. "Come," he said simply, striding away from her, back to the lobby. Wesker marched past the security desk without a second glance. There was no security for the way out of the building.

Sliding into the car away, Claire was mildly surprised when they did not retrace their previous path from the airport. She looked over at Wesker and tentatively reached out to touch his shoulder. He was dark and brooding again, a far cry from the last few weeks. Lines were etched between his eyebrows as he stared fixedly at the road before him.

She felt his fingers tighten on hers as he reached up to intercept them. "We have work to do, Miss Redfield."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Prisoner

"We have work to do, Miss Redfield," he said, his voice hard.

Claire nodded. Somehow she knew it wasn't going to be more paperwork and typing away on computers in darkened rooms. This was real work. Dirty work. The kind of work Wesker was known for.

They were silent for the duration of the almost two hour car ride into the desert. They had left conventional roads and drove down what was little more than a dirt track outside the city. How strange it must be to see this car in the middle of the desert, she mused darkly, twirling her hair around her finger. Even though she was less affected by the heat, she was still grateful when Wesker switched the air conditioner on low.

As she stared out the windshield in front of her, she could see a small pyramid sticking out of the desert. It looked like any of the other pyramids in Egypt, just as old and just as weathered. As far as she could tell, there wasn't anything special about it. Wesker parked the car at the bottom of the structure.

As she stepped out of the cool interior of the car, she shrugged her coat off and threw it back into the car. After she stretched her arms above her head, she checked her gun in its holster. She was suddenly hesitant about going underground. Granted, she had done it hundreds of times, dozens into laboratories, but this one put her off somehow. There was just something about it that didn't feel quite right to her.

Wesker pulled his gun and pushed the slide back, chambering a round. "Follow me," he murmured, heading down the steep stairs into the pyramid, not quite looking at her. In the flash of the sunlight before they disappeared underground, she saw a crack in his demeanor. It almost frightened her, the look on his face. Swallowing hard and drawing her own weapon, she followed him into the bowels of the earth.

There was no steady supply of electricity so lights flashed on and off sporadically. Wires sparked when holes had been slammed and punched through sheetrock. Pushing through a door, they came across an empty reception desk. The phone lay on the desk, covered in a dark liquid. The same liquid splattered up the wall and dripped from the ceiling. Claire shuddered to think what that liquid might be. Sheets of paper has been shoved from the desk to flutter haphazardly to the floor. There was a coffee mug shattered on the floor at her feet. Wesker stalked silently forward to the door behind the desk, kicking it open, breaking it with his zealousness.

When his intrusion was not met with any sort of welcome, he motioned her through after him. "Stay close. Who knows what may still be alive in here," he murmured, eyeing the empty hallway before him, his eyes taking in everything. They progressed silently down the hall, senses tuned for any sort of movement or sound. Turning the corner, they reached an elevator whose doors hung lopsidedly open, the elevator car smashed at the bottom of the shaft.

"Now what?" Claire sighed, looking down into the depths before them. But she knew where they must go.

"Where else?" he asked quietly. "Into the depths."

With that, he jumped down into the darkness below them. Even with her heightened abilities, Claire still felt uneasy about jumping down after him. What if something was lurking down there, just waiting to attack them when they jumped? Squaring her shoulders and firming her resolve, she stepped off the edge into oblivion.

The wind rushed past her face as she fell down through the darkness. Her hair whipped past her face tickling her ears as it did. It felt like an eternity to her, but in reality it was mere seconds. As if by instinct, her knees bent to absorb the shock of her impact as she landed a few feet from Wesker. Nodding once again, he shoved open the elevator doors and stepped up into the hallway, offering a hand back to Claire. She grasped his leather glove in her hand and was lifted up to his side.

In the silence of their landing, Claire's ears strained to hear a sort of wet shuffling noise in the darkness to their left. As they listened, the sound got slowly closer to them. Yanking the glasses from her face, she focused into the darkness. Slowly, a figure appeared. On the ceiling. It eyed her in the silence, a long forked tongue protruding from its mouth. Its exposed brain looked diseased and discolored, long tendrils of saliva pooling on the floor beneath it, dripping from sharp, pointed teeth.

A deafening report and a bright flash that left her seeing spots, the gunshot echoed down the empty hallways. The creature she had been aiming at fell to the floor with a sickly splat.

"Well done, but now we shall have everything left in this facility drawn to this location," Wesker said, removing his own glasses, his eyes flashing brightly in the darkness. He sped off down the hallway she had just killed the licker in, and disappeared around a corner. Claire quickly followed after him.

They came across a few other dead B.O.W.'s and blood splattered everywhere. Every so often, they'd open a door to find the room filled with deadness. Blood, guts and brain matter coated most walls they came in contact with. A few more dead lickers and people and they reached another elevator shaft. Claire decided the first thing she was doing was showering as soon as they reached the surface again. She stepped once more into the abyss.

Upon her landing, she was mildly surprised that there weren't any doors to pry open. The elevator landed on a large open room of sorts. There was evidence of another battle here as well. Black blood splattered the walls and even the ceiling in this room. Large tanks that held liquid were broken all over the floors, papers scattered everywhere. There was a large hulking mass against the back wall of the room, and Claire lifted her gun to it.

"Wait," Wesker murmured, cautiously stepping towards it. After examining it for a few moments, he waved her over. "It's dead."

It looked like a mass of tentacles piled on the floor. Slimy, rotten looking arms splayed across the floor as if still looking for its attacker. There were empty bullet casings littering the floor. Claire kicked a few away as she knelt down to get a better look at the experiment. It smelled of decaying flesh that had been left in the sun too long. The smell made her gag.

Suddenly, the sound of a gunshot echoed through the room. Whipping her head around, she watched Wesker crumple to the ground like a ragdoll, his sunglasses flying across the room to shatter against the wall. Claire's heart stopped.

"Wesker!" she screamed, launching herself towards him. Dropping her gun next to her, she turned his face to look at her. There, centered between his eyes was a small dark hole the size of her smallest finger. A small dribble of blood trickled down his nose and pooled into his ear. His eyes stared lifelessly back at her, empty of the fire that normally burned there. Even in death, he looked angry. Biting back a sob, she looked around for his attacker. "You can't die, you bastard! This isn't happening!" she shrieked, her eyes finding no one. She punched him in the chest, wishing his hand would stop hers. There was no resistance and her fist connected with a dull thud. His head lolled sickeningly on his neck.

Claire was near hysterics now. Albert Wesker, the man her brother had tried to kill for so long, the man she thought that maybe she was in love with, was now dead at her feet. With a single shot to the head. Now she was alone in the universe. Completely and utterly alone. She bent over Wesker's still warm chest and screamed her pain, tears coursing down her cheeks. Her fingers were clenched in the material of his coat, smelling the scent that was _only_ Wesker for the last time.

Hands clamped around her arms and waist, restraining her as a needle was plunged into the skin between her shoulder and her neck. She flailed wildly, pleased when she heard a grunt of pain, but then whatever she was injected with started taking over. Her vision spun wildly, her ears ringing loudly. Tears still coursed down her cheeks at the injustice of everything. Her knees gave out and she collapsed next to Wesker's still form.

The last thing she heard was a man's voice questioning what to do with the dead blonde's body.

A curt voice answered him back. "Leave it. It can rot here for all I care. If he's not dead…" Then Claire's senses faded away into darkness.

* * *

The first thing he was away of was a deep, agonizing pain in his face. Then the silence. There was no accompanying heart beat in the silence. He was alone. Feeling mildly annoyed with her, Wesker made to sit up and berate Claire for disappearing. As his eyes focused on the room around him, he was aware that he was indeed, completely alone.

Pulling the bullet from between his eyes with a growl, he fingered the slowly healing hole. Whoever had shot him had taken Claire. His eyes glowed in anger as he spied her gun dropped carelessly on the floor. He knew she wouldn't have willingly left it behind. Someone had taken her from him. They had touched something that had belonged to him.

Someone would pay with their life.

He stumbled to his feet, slightly dizzied. Furiously he shook his head, willing it to stop spinning. He heard the faint sounds of voices far away within the building. They filtered down the elevator shaft hazily. From the sounds, they were the men to take Claire. They were taking her back up to the surface. Snatching her gun from the floor, he staggered to the open elevator shaft. Shaking his head angrily, he forced his eyes to focus. He shoved her gun into the back of his belt. Slowly, the elevator access came into view. Grinning manically, he leapt into the air. Landing on the balls of his feet on the narrow ledge of the doors, he balance precariously, then leapt once more.

The voices slowly got closer.

Finally, he landed on the same floor the voices came from. His eyes flaring in anger, he wrenched apart the door, growling his anger. At the end of the corridor, he spied three men carrying Claire's unconscious body up the final flight of stairs to the entry lobby.

He let out a roar of pure rage as he saw them. Flashing down the hallways at them, he whipped out both weapons. A bullet caught the first man in the middle of the back. Then he hesitated. He didn't want to accidently hit Claire. Growling again, he flashed to the top of the stairs just as the men made it through the door.

Outside, there was a helicopter waiting.

Blinded without his sunglasses, Wesker stopped just inside the door, out of the direct sunlight. His eyes were watering from the brightness of the sun as he watched them load Claire's unconscious form, none too gently, into the chopper. Both men turned and fired at Wesker again, but he dodged them easily.

But, as they slammed the door shut on the chopper, a small logo on a box inside stood out. Firing blindly at the escaping helicopter, he heard the sickening squelch of someone's head turning to mist.

Wesker howled in rage as the chopper disappeared into the blinding sun.

* * *

Excella.

That _bitch_.

No, that was too kind a word to explain the surge of black hatred Wesker felt towards the woman. She was the chairman of the worlds' second largest pharmaceutical company in the world. Umbrella had been the first.

And her company's insignia was printed on the box inside the helicopter that had taken Claire from him. She would pay.

Dearly.

Growling, Wesker leapt off the edge of the helipad to the sand below. He stalked back towards his car, still half blinded by the sun. Ripping open the car door, he slammed himself into the seat. His head was pounding from forcing the bullet out of his brain and from the sudden glare of the sun after having been in near pitch black for hours. He yanked open the glove box and slid on a new pair of sunglasses. The relief to his eyes nearly instantaneous.

Then his eyes fell on her coat laying in the passenger seat. He reached out for it, his hands shaking in rage and something else he didn't want to admit. Slowly, he brought it to his face, burying his nose in the cloth. No other person could have that smell. _Claire's_ smell. He set the material back down in the seat next to him and slammed the car into drive.

Excella would pay with her life.

Cold calculation took over where passionate anger had previously reigned. As he slid through traffic, he knew Excella would not be stupid enough to keep Claire in Cairo. Making his way back to the airport they had arrived at earlier that day, Wesker told the pilot that they were not, in fact going back to the helicopter. Instead, they were going to Italy. He knew exactly where Excella was going to go with her precious, stolen cargo.

Home, sweet home.

Keeping his rage in check, he placed Claire's computer on the seat next to him as they flew from Cairo to Naples, Italy. Concentrating on his work was the only way he could keep from smashing his fist through the nearest physical object, human or not. Fifteen hours was a long time to wait, though.

Even for Albert Wesker.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18 Freedom

Pain.

So much pain.

All around her, invading her body, her mind. Even breathing hurt.

Claire struggled to open her eyes. Something was crusting them together so they only opened as slits. Everything was too bright without her sunglasses. Wait… Sunglasses.

Wesker!

Claire's heart pounded in her chest when she remembered his body lying in a heap on the floor. Her chest hurt with the unshed tears and silent screams. Her heart ached.

Trying to wipe her hair from her face, she realized that she was strapped down. Something foul tasting had been shoved into her mouth far enough that she couldn't spit it out. Her limbs were cuffed to the table she was on, stretched to their limits. Her shoulders and hips screamed in agony. Her head was free though, so she attempted to look around. She gasped as a white hot fireball exploded in the back of her skull. It felt like someone was trying to grate her spine with a cheese grater when she moved. Biting back a sob, she wiggled in her restraints, yanking on them. Pain burst in white flares behind her eyes as the cuffs bit deeply into her skin. Claire could already feel the blood seeping down her wrists and ankles.

Suddenly, she heard a door behind her open and three pairs of footsteps enter the room. One of them was wearing heels.

"Well aren't you a pretty little thing, now?" a scathing, accented voice penetrated the fog of pain.

Claire couldn't recognize the voice, but she knew she had heard it before.

"Again!" the voice demanded.

Pain erupted from her side as someone slid something sharp between her ribs like a lovers caress.

"I realize you have special powers that heal you, but that's why I keep you drugged and tied up. It's just enough to keep you docile while I let my boys play, but not enough to let you forget the pain," the voice purred. "You're just like him. Let's just say, you're out little test run. Whatever we do to you, will be many times worse on him. Oh, but don't worry. I won't kill you. Not yet anyway. I need him to see what will happen to him if things don't go my way." The voice was sultry and _very_ female. It giggled. "Have fun, boys," she murmured as Claire heard her clacking heels leave the room again.

Claire whimpered as a shock of pain slid down the inside of her thigh. Another across her collarbone. Never once did they utter a word, silently going about their morbid task. She felt a needle slip under her skin and force something cold into her body. She shuddered, tears spilling from her eyes. She felt the tickle of blood running down her cheek once again. Once again, she was losing consciousness from whatever they had pumped into her.

Hours or even days later, she woke again. This time, the light wasn't quite as bright, though her body hurt worse than ever. Finally, she pried her eyelids open. The first thing she saw made her see red in anger.

The Tricell emblem.

Excella. No wonder the voice was so familiar.

"Oh, so you finally woke up, have you?" Excella's voice sneered as she came around to look down on Claire. She was wearing a beige dress that left little to the imagination, much like the one she wore to the board meeting with Wesker.

Claire glared heated daggers at the woman. If only she weren't cuffed to the table, she'd rip her head off. With her bare hands.

Excella _tsked _at her, waving a needle full of some vile green liquid. "Naughty, naughty. We'll just have to up the dosage, now won't we?" she giggled, and then without warning, plunged the needle into Claire's shoulder, making her scream around the obstruction in her mouth.

Then oblivion.

* * *

Wesker laughed maniacally at the display before him. Ranks upon ranks of men in gas masks stood staring him down, each one of their laser sights focused on his skull. _Nice try, Excella_, he hissed in his mind. He could feel his eyes glowing scarlet in hatred. Then suddenly, he vanished.

He reappeared, wielding both guns, blasting men apart. With his exceptional speed, he flashed from one side to the other, squeezing a few rounds off, then flashing away to the other side. Many of the men died from friendly fire as he flashed between them.

A dull click announced that he was now out of ammunition.

For a split second, Wesker, eyes glowing with hellish light, standing in a sea of bodies, splattered with blood, stared down the quarter of men left standing. He cracked his neck to one side, smirked at them, and disappeared again. He flexed his arm into an immovable claw as he plunged it through chests and head, ripping limbs from bodies. Finally, the last man was skewered on the flagpole that held the Tricell flag on it, raining blood down below it.

Retrieving his guns from the ground where he dropped them, he wiped them off on one of the least bloody coats of the dead men surrounding him and slipped his back in the holster, hers back in his belt. He fought his way through the miserable security to the elevator and as he slammed someone's head into the control panel, the doors slid open and dinged pleasantly.

Chuckling darkly, and straightening his gloves, he descended.

Secrets were always kept in the dark.

Wesker dispatched every team, every person who stood in his way. He cut a bloody swathe through the building in his efforts to reach Claire.

Finally, he stumbled upon the one person he was hoping to see before he found Claire.

Excella.

She had holed herself up in a room that looked like it had hastily been turned into an observation room. The thought made Wesker seethe with anger.

"Al-albert! W-what a pleasant surprise!" she exclaimed, shifting to put the desk between the two of them. The animalistic look in his eye was definitely not the one she had been hoping to see. This was the gaze of a predator stalking its prey. She shivered in fear.

"You took something of mine, Excella," Wesker said coldly, drawing his empty gun and aiming it at her face.

She laughed nervously. "What could I have possibly taken from you?" She eyed the gun with trepidation.

Wesker laughed icily. He flashed behind her, pressing the gun to her temple. "Do not make me ask again," he whispered in her ear.

She pointed a shaky finger at the pneumatic doors. "Sh-she's in there," she whimpered, suddenly feeling very exposed.

Wesker dropped her to the floor and strode to the door, wrenching them open. He stared for a moment, then stalked back to Excella, yanking her up to sprawl across the desk.

"What have you done?"

The picture seared into his brain made him feel almost sick. Claire was cuffed, wrist and ankle, to an examination table that was suspended at an angle from the ceiling. The counters bordering the room were littered with wicked, evil looking implements stained with blood. _Her_ blood. She was naked but for her underwear and a thin t-shirt. What there was left of one.

The shirt was shredded to ribbon, sticking to her bloody swollen skin. There were stab wounds between her ribs, gashes down her legs and arms. There was skin missing from one arm that had yet to be regenerated. It was shiny and black. Her ankles were broken from pulling on the restraints. A dislocated shoulder and hip, two black eyes, her skin marred by multiple cuts and abrasions. Covered in blood. So much blood. Everywhere. Walls, ceiling, table, floor, counters. Everything had her blood on it.

There was no emotion in his voice. No anger, no ice. The voice of a dead man, his eyes flat as mirrors. Excella felt a tear streak down her face. She had made the world's biggest mistake, and now she was going to pay for it.

Slowly, oh so slowly, Wesker pushed his hand through her skin. Through the muscles and the slop of her organs to the pillar of her spine. Ever so gently he wrapped his hand around it…

…And crushed it to dust.

Excella screamed as she collapsed on the ground at his feet, her blood washing over his boots. She clutched jerkily at her skin, trying to hold herself together. As she gasped, she watched him stride into the cell, and walk out again, a body clutched to his chest wrapped in his coat protectively.

He didn't even look at her as he strode away.

* * *

She heard loud noises. Panicky noises of people running, door slamming, an alarm whooping. Claire tried to drag herself out of the drugged stupor she was in, but soon slipped back into unconsciousness.

When she opened her eyes again, everything was a glowing red. Slowly, her eyes focused and the red narrowed. It revealed two glowing eyes.

Strong, almost frantic hands freed her from the cuffs and she automatically curled into the fetal position. A hand roughly tugged the rag from her mouth and she gasped in a breath of fresh air. Her jaw was searing in pain as she attempted to close her mouth, but it just fell open again when her eyes focused on her hero.

"You came for me…" she rasped, her mouth and throat dry, tears pricking her eyes.

A dark, sinful chuckle drifted in the air. Her heart stuttered at the sound. "Dear heart, I will _always_ come for you," Wesker breathed, gently lifting her slight frame from the table, cradling her to his chest. Unable to lift her arms, she leaned into him, pressing her shivering skin against him.

He shrugged out of his long black coat and gently wrapped her broken body in it. Claire huddled closer to him as she felt the world slipping away in a haze of pain, the drugs tugging her down into the blackness.

* * *

Wesker was livid. Not only had Excella kidnapped and tortured Claire, she had injected her with something that was tampering with her virus. She wasn't healing like she was supposed to be and she was still unconscious from when he rescued her from Tricell's basement. Two days ago.

Removing his ever present sunglasses from his face, he set them aside as he peered into another microscope with a sample of Claire's blood. There was something wrong with it. The T-virus cells had membranes wrapped around them, cutting them off from her normal cells. She was almost completely human again, and it was killing her.

Wesker cursed Excella in every language he knew.

Swiveling around in his chair, he stared at Claire's limp form in the hospital bed behind him. There was an intravenous drip keeping her hydrated as he tried to find and cure what was killing her. Another was giving her small transfusions of his blood, hoping to bolster her virus cells. But nothing seemed to be working.

His heart clenched unwillingly when he thought of her kidnapping. The things they did to her, just because she belonged to him. Wesker told himself he was going to train her to give her the strength to defend herself when she woke up. If she woke up.

Running his hands through his hair in a rare show of frustration, he slid back to the computer and began his work again. Various machines beeped around the room, some monitoring Claire, some running diagnostics and tests. Then suddenly, he was hit with an inspiration. Rolling up his sleeve, he took another sample of his own blood and took a sample of hers and set to work.

* * *

A day later, Claire's eyes fluttered open. She felt a little sore, but okay otherwise. Stretching tentatively, fearing to feel the pull of pain, she was relieved when she was only met with a soreness.

Smiling slightly, she sat up, leaning on her elbow. She recognized Wesker's lab around her, but was slightly depressed when she didn't see her tyrant smirking at her. Sitting up completely, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her knees like jelly. Slowly, she stood, desperately grateful that she was wearing shorts and a t-shirt and not a hospital gown, even if there wasn't anything beneath the shirt.

She tripped herself as she leaned against the wall, searching for the exit. As her hand clasped the door knob, she stumbled against the door, falling through it into the living room of the island house. She lay there, her legs weak and twitching as she slowly looked around, half expecting to see a mirrored smirk looking down at her. Gritting her teeth, she pulled her feet back under herself and shambled down the hall, forcing herself to stay upright.

As she pushed past the vines hanging down over the door outside, she was mildly surprised to find that it was dark outside, the moon a fingernail clipping in the sky. She saw his footprints in the edge of the sand, leading down to the waters' edge. Leaning up against the edge of the vine trellis, she stared down at him, her heart in her throat.

Wesker was sitting in the sand, barefoot, without sunglasses. He had his arms wrapped around his knees as he stared out over the calm ocean. Suddenly, he sat up and looked back at the house, looking surprised to see her standing there. Then he was at her side, scooping her into his arms, holding her close. He sat down in the sand again, but with her cradled in his lap.

Claire stared up at him. This wasn't Wesker at all. Then his lips were on hers, slowly, softly, barely touching as if he was afraid to hurt her. One of his hands slid behind her neck, tangling in her hair as he traced her lips with his kisses. Her eyes fluttered shut as her fingers slipped into his hair, pressing him closer to her.

He broke their kiss to look down into her feral, emerald eyes. "Dear heart," he whispered, stroking her cheek with his thumb. His eyes blazed down at her in the darkness.

She reached up to stroke his cheek. "I thought you were dead," she whispered brokenly, tears instantly threatening to spill down her cheeks. "I watched you die… You died in my arms…" Claire looked horrified, her eyes staring unseeingly into the distance.

Wesker cupped her chin and made her look at him. "I am not dead, dear heart. It is going to take more than a bullet in the head to kill me. Otherwise your brother would have done it long ago. It merely slows down my regeneration until the bullet can be removed," he explained quietly, stroking her hair back from her face.

Claire still looked frightened. Wesker took her hand and placed it on his chest where his heart strongly beat beneath his shirt. "It still beats. I hardly think bullets are strong enough to kill me."

Then he was above her, her back pressed into the sand as she cradled his body with her own. Beneath him, she felt safe, protected. No one could touch her while Wesker was in the way. His lips sought hers and slid against them with slippery passion. His velvety tongue demanded access to her mouth as she slid her hands beneath his shirt. His skin was hot to the touch, warming the coldness in her. She slid her hands up his back as he traced the shell of her ear with his tongue, then gently nipped the edge.

Claire moaned quietly and pressed herself against him, her heels digging into the sand beneath her. She dug her nails into his skin as he nipped at the pale column of her throat, a throaty moan slipping from her lips again. She felt his hand trace down her side and slip under her own shirt. As good as he felt against her, Claire had other ideas.

Pushing from the ground, she rolled over to pin Wesker to the ground beneath her. "Dear heart, what-" he began, but she laid a finger against his lips, her eyes begging. He frowned up at her but she ignored him as she timidly bent to press a kiss beneath his ear, her fingers sliding under his shirt once more.

Wesker was unable to stop the small sigh that escaped his lips. His arms wrapped around her, burying his fingers in her hair as she trailed down is neck. When he made to stop her, she pulled back, looking down at him.

"Please," she whispered. "Just let me do this…"

His hands fell to cup her rear as she trailed her lips down his throat. A cool hand slipped between them to slowly flick each button free, her nails gently grazing his skin as her lips followed more slowly. His fingers hooked in the waist of the shorts she was wearing, tugging them down slightly. He growled deep in his throat when her teeth nipped at his collarbone, his eyes flaring golden.

Leaning back, she yanked his shirttails from his pants and pushed it off his shoulders, exposing more pale skin. He tasted divine, Claire thought as she nipped and licked his skin. She could feel his pleasure pressing against her bum as she slid down his body, tongue tasting exposed skin, teeth nipping at nipples and hip bones on her way past.

Wesker growled in pleasure when her fingertips slid over the bulge in his pants. She glanced up at him, meeting his eyes, as she flicked open the fastenings of his trousers. Shimmying down, she pulled on the waistband, freeing him to the cool midnight air.

Claire stared down at him. He was perfection. Finely sculpted muscles wrapped around a strong, lithe frame, all covered with delicious golden skin. His eyes blazed like fire as she scrutinized him. Then, he hissed as she took him into her hand, wrapping her fingers gently around his length. Leaning down, she kissed the tip of him, making him groan quietly.

Realizing she wasn't going to be roughly pushed aside, she slowly grazed her teeth along his length, her lips tightening around him. Sweet, salty, masculine and something that could only be described as Wesker. A small smile on her lips, she repeated her previous movement. She felt his hips buck slightly as she continued, taking it as a sign that he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

Suddenly, she was falling back once again. "You are wearing _far_ too many pieces of clothing, dear heart," he growled, eyes flashing dangerously as his hands shoving her shirt up above her breasts and over her head. He flung it carelessly away as she stood to wiggle out of her panties. As he yanked his pants off over his feet, Claire tackled him to the ground once again.

Perching across his hips, she slid her wetness the length of him, making them both sigh. Repeating her movements, Wesker's hands came up to cup her breasts, nipping and sucking at the bare, porcelain skin above him. Time after time, she slid against him until she couldn't stand it any longer.

"I need you," she whispered, her eyes blazing in passion as she looked down at him, his head between her breasts. Her hands pulled desperately at his hair in her frustration.

He chuckled darkly. "Not yet." Rolling her beneath him again, he bit down on the tendon in her neck. Hard. But instead of hurting, Claire felt a white hot pleasure flash through her body to settle deep within her abdomen. She writhed against him as he repeatedly nibbled her skin with his heated mouth.

"Wesker," she moaned, drawing his name out in a long sound. Never had he heard something so wonderful. She felt good there, beneath him. The heat and scent of her skin was enough to drive a lesser man insane.

When had this little she-devil wormed her way into his cold, dead heart?

"Dear heart," he murmured. "Claire," he was interrupted when her lips were pressed against his heatedly. As much as he relished the feeling, he pulled back, taking a breath. "Use my name," he whispered, burying his face in her hair as if he couldn't bear to look at her.

Claire stared at him for a moment, but was soon engulfed in a storm of passion that was Wesker's teeth, tongue and lips. As he nipped the underside of a breast, cupping the other in his hand, she moaned. "Oh… Albert…" she whispered, his name barely more than a breath, but he heard it. "Albert…"

Unable to deny himself any longer, he slid deep between her thighs, letting a pleased groan escape his lips. "Claire," he groaned as she rolled her hips against his, demanding he start moving. And quickly. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he thrust powerfully against her, burying himself deep within her only to pull back and thrust in once again.

Her nails raked down his back as he lifted her hips to gain a deeper angle. The half moan, half scream that ripped from her pretty pink lips made Wesker growl again in pleasure. Her eyes fluttered as her senses were overloaded with pleasure.

"Look at me," he demanded, thrusting against her straining body. He enjoyed the effort it took for her to meet his eyes, hers barely open from the onslaught of pleasure. Not breaking eye contact with the goddess beneath him, he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder, burying himself impossibly deeper within her silken heat.

"Albert!" she nearly screamed as he thrust against something deep within her, making her convulse in pleasure.

Claire felt as if she were burning up, so intense was the desire between them. She could feel the muscles deep within her belly fluttering, warning her of her impending release. Clenching a hand around his arm, the other buried in the sand above her head, she screamed out as he pressed in on something that made her wild. Her vision went dark as the waves built higher and higher within in her.

Wesker could see how close she was and chuckled darkly in her ear. He bit down on the sensitive outside shell of her ear and whispered, "Come for me."

That was her breaking point. The heat of his breath and his teeth on her ear, not to mention his hand tweaking a nipple and his length pressing against that oh so wonderful place within her were too much. She shattered around him, screaming his name. Her hand clenched around his arm clamped down hard enough to draw blood.

Watching her fall apart so seductively beneath him was his own undoing. Her fluttering, silken muscles clamping around him was more than enough to send him over the edge into his own oblivion. "Claire!" he murmured, his hands clenched around her hips, guiding her strongly against him for the last few strokes.

Claire stared up at him with passion-glazed eyes. Slowly, she reached a trembling hand up to cup his face. "I-" she began, but Wesker silenced her with a kiss.

"I know," he murmured, looking down at her with blazing eyes that were no longer cold like they once had been. He knew what she was going to say, but he didn't think he could stand to hear it. Those perfect lips shaping those three words, her breathless voice accenting words. Placing a kiss to her lips once again, he rolled her atop him.

She looked down at him and giggled, feeling him growing hard against her stomach once again. "Again?"

"Forever," he growled, hands sliding up her smooth skin once again.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19 Training

Claire woke when the sun was high in the sky. Much to her surprise, they were sprawled in their large bed and she was still tangled with Wesker in the sheets. Her arm was thrown across his sculpted abdomen, her head pillowed on his chest. His hand was tangled in her hair, his legs trapping hers between them. She hummed in appreciation when he gently scraped his nails along her back, making her shiver against him.

"Mmm…" She moaned, snuggling up closer to him. "Good morning," she said, pressing a kiss over his heart. Looking up at him, she could see a faint hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Indeed," he said, pushing a stray tendril of hair out of her face and pulling her up to kiss her gently. "How are you feeling?"

She stretched languorously against him before answering. "A bit sore, but otherwise, I feel wonderful," she murmured, tracing a finger down his chest over a nipple. He chuckled and Claire felt it rumble deeply in his chest. Wesker noticed, a bit distractedly, the way their bodies fit together perfectly.

"Good."

They were silent for a while. Claire was enjoying the feel of his bare skin pressed against her, her fingers absently stroking his stomach. When she looked up, he had his eyes close, one arm under his head, the other sliding slowly back and forth down her back. Smiling faintly, she nuzzled closer, slipping into a sleepy stupor.

Slowly, his hand came to a halt, pressing her closer to his burning skin. "Dear heart," he began quietly. He sounded almost cautious. "Do you remember what happened with Excella?"

Claire looked up at him, bracing herself on an elbow. Frowning, she looked out the window at the sea before them. Eventually, she answered him. "I remember pieces of it, but only vaguely. The only thing I remember clearly was you," she choked back a sob. "You lying dead on the floor." She pressed her face against his chest as a single tear slid down her cheek. Wesker's arms came around her, cradling her. "I didn't hear anything except the one gunshot. Then they stuck a needle in me as I tried to fight them off, but I couldn't," she finished, her voice quiet. Neither of them spoke for a while.

Claire looked up at him. "What about you?" she whispered, looking up at his burning eyes. She notice that they flared red when she had asked, his grip on her tightening slightly.

He was silent for a moment, then said "After I regained consciousness a few minutes after you were kidnapped, I heard them making their way to the roof with you. Naturally, I couldn't let that happen. I followed them to Excella's lair," he sneered, then leaned down to kiss her forehead. "I found you in Naples, Italy, in one of her labs, trussed up like an experiment." He paused, then said in a low, dangerous voice, "No one touches what's mine. I killed her."

Claire smiled a twisted smile at his declaration, and cuddled closer to him. They exchanged a few deliciously lazy kisses, then Wesker slid from beneath her, picking up his trousers as he stepped into the bathroom.

Claire enjoyed the way the sun slid off his skin as he stood framed in the balcony doorway for a moment like a statue of Adonis. Damn, but he was an attractive man. She giggled to herself when she heard the shower start and slowly crawled from the bed.

It was a beautiful day; cool and not too humid either. Feeling strangely energetic, she decided that she was going to go for a jog. Finding fresh underclothes, she slipped on a pair of shorts and a tank top, throwing her hair carelessly up in a ponytail.

She knocked on the bathroom door hesitantly, then stepped into the steamy room. "A-Albert?" she stumbled over his name. It felt so foreign, like someone else's name completely.

Wesker felt a slight thrill as he heard her speak his name. Maybe it was true about someone having power over you if they knew your name. "Yes, dear heart?" he asked, turning off the steaming shower and stepping out to face her. He saw her eyes dart over his body as he stood there, hands on his hips expectantly.

"I, uh, I'm gonna go for a run. So, uh, I'll see you in a bit?" she sounded distracted.

He smirked down at her as he leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. "I shall be in the lab when you return."

She nodded and slipped out the door, her heady fragrance lingering behind her.

* * *

_Oh, damn that man_, she thought acidly, shaking her head to dispel the memory. Did he have any idea how _very_ alluring he looked, standing there in his skin, water beading and sliding down his chiseled skin? _UGH!_ She nearly joined him in the shower, but decided after the marathon they had had the night before and in the wee hours of the morning, she should probably skip it. Claire smirked and shivered when she spied their clothing flung across the beach. Had she ever had a better night? She doubted it.

Sinking her toes into the sand, she set off across the beach away from the house.

As she splashed through the surf on the edge of the water, her mind wandered. Wesker had seemed deeply disturbed that someone had touched her. He had turned murderous, not that it was particularly hard for him to do, and ripped an entire laboratory apart looking for her. She couldn't decide if it was because someone had had the nerve to touch what was his, or if it was something else. Something suspiciously like feelings.

Claire snorted and shook her head slightly, quickening her pace. Just because she had fallen head over heels for the blonde tyrant, didn't mean that he reciprocated those feelings. He probably just saw her as another possession, something of his no one could touch. Her heart lurched as she followed the train of thought. She suddenly felt depressed and pushed herself to run harder, her hair streaming out behind her.

Suddenly, she stopped, stalk still. If he had no feelings for her, then what the hell was last night in the moonlight? Never had she seen him looking so… _human_. Sitting in the sand at the waters' edge, looking out over the water, he had never looked more lonely than he did when he looked back at her standing in the doorway. Wesker was a fabulous actor, but she didn't thing even he could have faked his way through that performance. Performances. Claire blushed in memory of his skin against hers, his lips devouring her as if she were going to disappear, his nails raking down her back, pressing her closer. The near franticness, the possession. No, those were the reactions of a man who had almost lost someone very near and dear to him.

Giggling, she hugged herself, and skipped through the waves around her ankles. She felt lighter than air.

Albert Wesker was in love with her.

Feeling immensely better about herself, she took off running again, retracing her steps to the house they shared. Back towards home.

Stopping on the beach in front of the house, she picked up their clothes, draping them over her arm, a faint smile playing about her lips. She turned to look out over the ocean, the breeze blowing her hair in the wind. She would never forget the smell of Wesker and the sea, such a wonderful, alluring scent. Hugging his shirt to her face, she smiled and sashayed into the house.

Tossing the clothes in a heap by the door, she skipped down the hallway to the door to his lab, noting that it was open just a crack. Knowing that if it had been shut, she wouldn't be permitted to enter, she slipped through the door and down the short hallway. When she entered the lab, she saw him sitting in front of his numerous computer screens, his cheek resting on his fist as he scanned the screens surrounding him.

Silently, she slipped up behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and nipping at his ear gently.

"Dear heart," he murmured warmly, his hand coming up to rest on her arms crossed under his chin, his thumb idly stroking her skin. He had shown no surprise at her being there.

Claire grinned and buried her nose in his neck, inhaling deeply. Damn, but he smelled good. It did things to her; made her knees weak, her eyes flutter, her heart race, not to mention the muscles that clenched ever so sweetly in her lower belly. She felt like an addict as she inhaled again. "You smell delicious," she murmured, pressing her lips to his neck.

Wesker just laughed.

Claire rolled her eyes at him, still smiling, grateful he couldn't see her impertinence. He slowly swiveled in his chair to face her, a smirk on his lips. He kissed her once, then became his usual stoic self.

"Dear heart, if you're ever to accompany on a mission again, you're going to have to learn how to fight," he said, fixing her with his piercing gaze over the top of his glasses.

All her romantic feelings deflated instantly at his words. "I know how to fight!" she said indignantly, fisting her hands on her hips and glaring at him. "Are you telling me I'm not good enough for this?"

Wesker stared at her. "You would do well to remember to not raise your voice with me," he said, his voice decidedly cooler than a moment ago. "If," he accentuated the 'if'. "You ever accompany me again, I do not want a repeat of our previous outing. The people who hunt you and I are stronger than almost any you have come up against, fighting Umbrella."

Claire snorted. "And you think I can't handle my own?"

He took his glasses off and tossed them onto the desk beside his cellphone. "Claire, if someone catches you again, there are people out there who would do worse than torture you. Would you rather be strapped to a table while people cut little slices of your skin and muscles and organs away just to see what makes you sick? They could tamper with the virus and make it unstable, causing a mutation. I would rather you listened without arguing with me for once," he said pointedly, standing and crossing his arms, looking down at her.

She felt small, dwarfed by his height. "Fine," she huffed, turning away from him. "I'll learn how to fight. Hell, I'll kick your ass. Just watch."

Wesker chuckled darkly, his eyes flashing. "Doubtful. Meet me on the beach in one hour."

Claire didn't even grace him with an answer and stomped out the door.

"Oh, and dear heart?" His voice floated out the laboratory door. "Bring your gun."

* * *

_Insufferable man_, she thought darkly, her fists clenched as she slammed the door behind her.

When Wesker found her an hour later, she was dressed in slim fitting jeans and a black shirt, her gun strapped to her leg. She was seated in the grass, sitting in a veritable pile of flowers, a myriad of colors around her. As he watched her quietly, she braided the stems together making a fragrant garland. It was nearly six feet long, trailing on the ground behind her as she worked, her fingers nimble in their tasks. Her hair fell in her eyes and as she brushed it out of her face, she caught sight of him lounging in the doorway like a leopard. She stuck her tongue out at him as he approached her, her face still contorted in indignation.

As he reached her, he cupped her chin rather roughly and whispered in her ear, "Keep that delectable tongue in your mouth or else I'll bite it." Claire's eyes widened fractionally and she swallowed, a blush spreading across her cheeks and down her throat. Wesker smirked as he pulled her to her feet. Flowers fell around her like snow, littering the ground with color.

Pushing her hair into a ponytail yet again, she asked, "So why do I need a gun? You already know I can shoot."

"You handle your weapon like a human, Miss Redfield. I shall show you how to use it like a goddess," he said, his eyes flashing, a smirk still tugging the corners of his lips. He motioned her over beneath the palm trees, to the shade. "Haven't you ever wondered why your brother couldn't defeat me?"

Claire looked at him, not saying anything. Then, without warning, she attacked him. Her gun flashed to her hand, her sights targeted on his chest. She pulled the trigger as fast as she could. When she heard the bullets ricocheting off the trees surrounding them, her face grew stern. Never once did she even come remotely close to hitting him with one. As soon as one clip was empty, she slapped in another, her eyes trying to follow Wesker's movement.

Suddenly, she felt cold metal pressed to the back of her neck. "Valiant effort but still disgustingly human." She shuddered as she thought she felt a faint brush of his lips across her skin, and then he was gone again. "Focus!" he demanded, his voice floating around her from all directions.

Closing her eyes for a brief second, she listened to the other noises around her, his scent drifting around her distractingly. If she strained her ears, she could hear his almost silent footsteps as he flashed around her. Smirking, she lunged to her left and was savagely surprised when she connected with solid flesh. As she opened her eyes, she was slightly irritated to find that he had easily blocked her punch with his forearm. He cocked his head at her, his lopsided grin making her heart beat faster.

"Better," he said, flashing away again. Then suddenly, his fist was coming straight at her face. Throwing her arms up to block it, her arms smashed into her face, but stopped his fist. Her lip curling in anger, she flashed away from him, his dark chuckle following her. She wasn't going to make this easy.

For hours, they clashed and fought, shot and blocked. Claire could feel her skin bruising deeply when his punches and kicks pressed into her flesh. If ever she managed to hit him, they were glancing blows that he easily shrugged off, not even losing his footing. The longer they fought, the angrier she became. There was no way that she was going to willingly loose to him. Slapping another clip into her gun, she kicked out at him. He caught her foot and twisted it to throw her off balance. As she spun through the air, she fired three shots at him. All of which he dodged, the infernal smirk ever on his face. Then, when she landed behind him, she kicked back with all her might, her foot connecting solidly with the middle of his back. He stumbled a few steps before he caught himself.

Claire was crouched, panting, waiting for his retaliation, every sense on high alert, ready to flinch back from a fist or a bullet. But it never came. Furrowing her brows, she stood and marched over to face him, slipping her gun back into its holster on her leg. She was going to kill him if this was a play to catch her off-guard.

"Albert…?" she began questioningly, but stopped, her eyes wide as she saw him wiping blood from his nose. "What's wrong?" she asked, reaching out to tentatively touch his arm, concerned. Wesker didn't bleed. Hardly ever. But if his nose was bleeding, there had to be something seriously wrong.

As soon as she touched him, she was whipped around her arm shoved up painfully behind her back. "Don't touch me," he snarled, his eyes flashing crimson. Then, as suddenly as he reacted, he was gone, striding back towards the house.

Claire stared after him, her eyes wide. As much as she wanted to follow him and find out what happened, she didn't feel like nursing broken bones for the next three days. She wished he would let her in, let her know what was going on, without having to pry it painfully out of him. Distantly, she heard the slam of the laboratory door, sadly knowing she wasn't allowed within.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20 Poison

He didn't come back that night.

Claire sat in the living room, idly going through her neglected research of the underwater cave. She was observing the little blue lump once again, stroking the top of it, lost deep in thought. Her thoughts swirled back and forth between what had happened the previous day and the cave beneath the waves. As she sat there silently, she found herself missing his presence, his smell, the quiet clicking of computer keys as he worked diligently in the chair beside her. She sighed, placing the blue rock back in its dish on the table, her laptop sitting next to it.

As she stood, the door to the lab opened, and Wesker's dark form stepped through. She eyed him warily as he strode over to her, his sunglasses placed firmly on his face. Sniffing slightly, she could smell the deliciously intoxicating smell that wafted off of him, but there was a hint of something else too. Something that wasn't him at all. Something she had smelled before but couldn't quite place.

"Are you ready?" he asked, staring down at her.

Claire swallowed. "Ready for what?" she asked hesitantly, noting that he was not in a playful mood. She shifted uneasily before him.

"I hardly think one day of so called training is enough, even for you, Miss Redfield," he said, crossing his arms. "I suggest you find your firearm and meet me outside again." His tone brooked no negotiation.

She nodded and slipped past him to retrieve her gun from the hallway table as he marched out the door into the glaring sunlight. Something must have happened overnight to make him this furious. Claire was almost frightened to meet him, feeling the waves of barely contained rage rolling off him. Had she done something wrong? Swallowing her trepidation, she stepped into the sunshine to meet her golden devil.

* * *

Two days passed much the way. He would find her around noon, demand that they train, then at precisely six in the evening he would depart. Then door to the laboratory would snap shut, hiding him away until the next day. But on the second day, there was something about him that made her eye him warily, a sour taste in the back of her throat, her heart fluttering in trepidation.

His normally pale skin was rather flushed looking and Claire could see that under his sunglasses, there were dark smudges beneath his eyes. His fighting had become easier and easier to overcome. At first, she had felt as if she were winning, but she knew better than to think she had bested Albert Wesker. And that same smell. It was stronger than when she first noticed it, but now she recognized where she had smelled it before.

_Oh god._

It was the stench that permeated Raccoon City. The smell that had wafted down the corridors on Rockfort Island. The smell of rotten flesh and death. The smell of zombies. Claire felt the blood drain from her face, her heart hammering in her chest so hard she could feel it in her fingertips. But this was Wesker, she tried to convince herself. There was no way to kill the man, he was unstoppable. Convincing herself that peeking her head into the _closed_ lab door wasn't the best idea, she sat in the living room, just outside the door. Her nerves were so tightly wound that she jumped with fright when she'd heard an owl hoot outside the house. Shaking her head to clear it, she stared intently at the door, her fingers clenching and unclenching nervously in her lap.

All night and well past the time he normally met her outside, she kept a frightened vigil. When six in the evening had rolled around and he still hadn't emerged, Claire took a deep breath and knocked on the door. She waited with baited breath for the flash of crimson eyes and the biting retort she was sure to follow, but her ears were met with silence. She knocked again, softly calling out. "Wesker?" No response. She tried again, her heart in her throat. "Albert?" Again, silence.

Her eyes wide, she whipped open the door with sweaty fingers and flashed down the hall to the lab. As she shoved open the door, her eyes adjusted to the darkness within. The computer screens were strangely dark, never having been turned on. Then she focused on a large dark form lying on the floor beneath his desk, a clipboard with its papers scattered and a broken coffee cup on the floor beside him. His sunglasses lay smashed on the desk next to the keyboard.

"Ohmygod," her words ran together as her heart stopped. Then she was here, rolling his limp form over again. Frantically, she looked for blood, wounds, _anything_. There was nothing. But, when she looked into his face, her eyes widened.

His hair stuck to his face damply, sweat soaking his face, running down his cheeks in beads. His eyes were half closed, his eyes dilated to near blackness. A faint line of dull orange surrounded his irises. His eyes were so bloodshot, there was hardly any white left to them. Chest heaving with labored breaths, he laid there limply.

She had to get him off the floor, she realized, her survivalist instincts taking over as she tried to maneuver her slight build beneath his larger, much heavier one. She lifted him to totter towards the bed on the back wall. Gritting her teeth, she shoved them up, and half drug him to it, flopping him gracelessly onto it.

But that just seemed to wake him from his stupor. As she was moving to push his legs onto the bed, she felt herself suddenly being thrown through the air. She connected with the wall next to the door painfully, cracking it, then catching herself as she landed on the floor. Her eyes flashing, she stared over at him. He was struggling weakly to get up, clutching his head and grunting in pain as his knees threatening to buckle beneath him. She stepped closer to him warily, her muscles stiffened to defend herself as Wesker fell to his knees, an angry scream forcing itself from his lips. Not knowing what to do, Claire watched him convulse, her eyes wide. Then his burning eyes focused on her.

"Get out!" he shrieked. He stumbled towards her, slamming her against the wall again, his hand around her throat. She struggled to pull his hand away from her throat. "Leave. ME. ALONE!" He howled. Then he was on all fours, coughing and gasping, choking on what looked suspiciously like blood. It splattered her feet as he gagged.

Instantly, Claire felt the fear leave. It was as if it was never there. Silently, she stepped towards him as he coughed and retched, sweat streaming from his body. His skin was burning to the touch. Almost frighteningly so. Reaching down, she shouldered herself under his arm and helped him to his feet. The parts of her that were pressed against Wesker were soaked with his sweat. Whether he had given up trying to shove her away, or if he was just too weak to protest, she sat him on the edge of the bed again.

This time there was no protest as she tried to make him comfortable. As she pulled a blanket from the shelf, she heard him choke, "I don't need your help, Redfield." She turned to look at him, her eyebrows raised.

"Right. Like you're going to just magic a blanket out of thin air," she said sarcastically. She draped the thin blanket over his shaking form, then hesitantly stroking his sweat soaked hair from his forehead. His eyes were closed, but his breathing labored on. Then she filled a small sink with cold water and gently sponged the sweat from his face, feeling distinctly protective.

For hours, she watched his labored breathing, his eyes darting beneath his eyelids. His body was wracked with shivers and Claire pulled the blanket higher up over his sweating form. Every few minutes, she rewet her sponge and pressed it against his forehead and neck. Then suddenly, in the early grey hours of the morning, her eyes too tired to keep open, she rested her head, just for a minute, on the bed next to his. She'd only rest for a minute…

* * *

When she opened her gritty eyes slowly, everything that had happened the previous night came crashing back. Hurriedly, she sat up, checking over the golden man before her. But he looked no different than when she had fallen asleep. He still shuddered, his eyes still rolling beneath the lids, the sheets beneath him soaked with sweat. Frowning, she stood to empty the sink and fill it once more with cold water.

Two days passed with no change. Claire faithfully patted the sweat from his blistering skin, every so often attempting to tip tiny bits of water down his throat. She could never tell if it spilled over his cheek or if he swallowed, but she kept doing it. She left his side twice, both times never longer than ten minutes; once to reliever her aching bladder and change into fresh clothes, the other to quell the angry growling in her stomach.

As she sat next to him in his desk chair, her nose buried in a book, she heard his raspy voice call out quietly. "Redfield… No…" A frown furrowed his brows and his hands twitched.

"Albert, what-" she began but stopped speaking when his lips moved again.

"Don't… Let me…" then he fell silent.

For a few moments there was silence. Then: "I'm sorry."

Claire was floored. Albert Wesker just apologized. She wasn't quite sure if it was meant for her or her brother, but either way, Wesker was not a man who apologized to anyone, for anything.

Another few hours passed in relative quiet, the sound of his ragged breathing the only thing to break the ever present silence. Then:

"Dear heart," he breathed, his eyes focusing on her face, his eyes awash in agony. Claire dropped her book to the chair, darting to her feet.

"Albert!" she said, worry etching her features as she pressed the damp cloth to his face again, feeling completely useless.

He groaned in pain. "It's like fire," he breathed, his eyes sliding shut once again.

* * *

There was so much heat. He couldn't escape. It was hot and wet and it was smothering him. He tried to fight for consciousness, but a burning darkness kept pulling him down into the abyss. Then, something soft and cool stroked his face, giving him a fleeting reprieve from the scorching waves that kept washing over him. He tried to reach for the coolness but it eluded his grasp like slippery fish in a pond. Then darkness.

A time later, he felt the same coolness press against his skin and he fought to open his eyes. The figure before him horrified him. It was Claire, a sweet smile gracing her delicious lips. But as he watched, her form burst into flames, much like Alexia had on Rockfort Island. The smile on Claire's lips turned from sweet to vengeful. He flinched back as she reached towards him, the fire slowly eating away her features. He screamed silently in his head as the skin was scorched from his bones at her touch.

Seconds or even days later, other visions took over his fevered mind. Over and over, his mind replayed the Spencer Mansion, when he and Birkin had assassinated their mentor, Marcus. The horror at what they'd done outweighed the accomplishment this time. This time, he flinched at the memory. The betrayal of his STARS team. Everything flashed in front of him. All the little things he had done, everything he had done to rip the world apart, flashed before his eyes, making him shrink back from himself. Everything he had kept sealed away beneath ice and steel and bitterness. It was like a sick movie stuck on repeat. He thrashed against the darkness, fighting to free himself.

Then an angelic figure was standing over him, her cool touch a balm to his burning skin. Gently, she stroked the side of his face with cool fingers, her eyes liquid as she stared down at him. Green eyes and fiery hair filled his eyes as the relief spread down his neck and across his bare shoulders. Then blessedly cold lips brushed against his.

"Sleep," she whispered, her voice her voice calming his turbulent soul.

And he slept.

* * *

Wesker was unconscious but for sporadic spurts, for an entire week. Claire was nearly beside herself with worry as she watched him. She had seen him rage against unseen foes, scream in agony, and tears silently course down his cheeks in the dead of night. Names, apologies, curses, threats, and agony had all slipped from his lips while he was unconscious. All of this had convinced her unerringly that he was indeed, still human. Hidden deep within the tyrant shell, lie a human heart covered with ice, caged in steel. In his sickness, she had seen into the coldness and saw the man that lie concealed within.

He had stopped sweating so profusely earlier that morning, his breathing slowly coming back to normal. His fiery eyes no longer rolled sickly beneath his skin. Now he could be merely sleeping, but Claire knew better. She still kept her silent vigil over him, a pile of books stacked haphazardly next to the chair. Her hair was sticking uncomfortably to her skin from lack of a shower, but she didn't care. There were more important things at the moment than dirty hair.

She had her eyes closed in a brief half hour nap, her head resting on the bed next to him, pillowed in her arms. Then suddenly, there was a burning hand set gingerly atop her head. Blinking blearily, her eyes focused on his face. Then like the sun from behind a cloud, her radiant smile slipped across her lips.

"Hi," she murmured, cradling his hand to her cheek.

He swallowed thickly. "Hi," he whispered, his throat scratch and dry. He smiled at her slightly, too exhausted to do anything else.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked quietly, stroking the back of his hand.

"Water," he rasped, tracing a slightly trembling hand down the side of her face. Claire smiled and pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand as she set it on the bed. Within seconds, she was back, bearing a plastic Dixie cup with blessedly cool water in it. He attempted to take it from her with shaking hands, but the liquid sloshed over the edge, dampening the blankets.

Then Claire felt a sure of protective boldness in her next move. Staring intently into his eyes, she took a sip of the cool water, then hesitantly pressed her lips to his, offering him the still cool liquid from her mouth. Her heart hammered painfully in her chest, but she was eternally grateful when his burning lips parted to take her offering. His hand grasped her wrist weakly, attempting to pull her closer. Pressing her lips to his again, she sat back, eyeing him.

"Delicious," he murmured, his other hand coming up to stroke her face, his eyes glowing. "More."

She happily obliged, glad to see the golden hue slowly returning to his pallid skin. This time, when she pressed her lips to his, his tongue traced her lips slowly as he swallowed the liquid. His hand found its way into her hair, pulling her down to lean against his chest. Slowly, they drained the cup of water, then Claire dropped it carelessly beside the bed. Now, they exchanged languorous kisses, slow, sensual, and reassuring.

"Albert," she murmured, gently stroking her thumb across his stomach as she rested her head next to his on the thin pillow. "What happened?"

Wesker was silent for a moment, collecting his scattered thoughts. "You can thank Excella for this," he remarked dryly, playing with a piece of Claire's hair that was easily within his reach. She looked up at him quizzically. Then he continued. "Whatever it is that they injected you with was slowly killing your virus. It was killing you. The only way I could think to save you was to provide you with enough untainted blood that it would overwhelm the infection and stop it."

Claire stared at him.

"I took what was attacking your cells into my body to fight it off. My virus is much stronger than yours, much heartier. I could fight it off, but it would make me very ill. But I had not anticipated just how ill it would make me. I cured you and poisoned myself." He didn't look at her, his eyes staring fixedly at his hand stroking her hair.

They were silent for a while, until Claire's screaming bladder demanded that she empty it again. She sat up, stretching like a cat before she stood. A soft smile on her face, she looked down at him, brushing a stray wisp of hair from his forehead. Murmuring that she'd be back in a minute and for him to stay put, she slipped from the room.

* * *

When she emerged from the bathroom a minute later, she was mildly irritated that she saw him leaning against the bedroom door frame, looking grey with exhaustion.

"I thought I told you to stay put?" she said without heat as she slipped beneath his arm to help him balance.

He smirked down at her. It was only a ghost of his normal smirk, but it was enough to make her smile. "Never have I, nor will I ever, take orders from a Redfield," he teased her gently. Straightening his legs beneath him, he walked into the bathroom, his feet faltering only once.

She heard the shower start and smiled faintly as she stood facing out the balcony doorway. It was near midnight and the moon hung swollen and orange in the sky, the breeze whistling quietly through the trees. She absorbed the serene darkness, breathing in the fresh air instead of the sterilized air from the lab. Moments later, the scent of his soap drifted from the bathroom, curling tantalizingly through the air. Turning to the closet, she shimmied out of her pants and threw them in the hamper, slipping her bra off to join them, leaving her clad in her lacy black underwear and a tight fitting black shirt.

When she heard the water stop, she turned back to the bathroom door. He stepped through it a few moments later, a pair of black cotton pants hanging loosely from his chiseled hips. A few stray beads of moisture dripped down his chest. His hair was slicked back messily, nothing like its normal smooth order. His eyes were shimmering with a golden red light as he saw her figure outlined in the silver moonlight, glinting from her hair and eyes.

"Let us to bed," he said softly. She nodded and slipped between the sheets as he slid in next to her.

Bunching the pillows beneath his head, he smiled as Claire curled herself into his side beneath his arm, one of her legs slid between his as her arm encircled his waist possessively. She propped herself up on an elbow and looked down at him, marveling in his Grecian beauty. Every time she looked at him, she had to remind herself that he wasn't a statue but that he was a real, live man who burned for her. The high, square cheekbones, the hairless expanse of his well-muscled chest, the oh-so-happy trail that descended from his navel into the deep v shape of his hips. The way his strong arms, like iron, wrapped around her and pulled her close.

"What exactly are you staring at, dear heart?" His voice broke her from her daze. Her eyes met his, her hand running over his stomach, fingernails scratching lightly at his skin. She was silent for a moment, then leaned down to kiss him, but halted. Her lips were a hairsbreadth from his when she whispered;

"A god."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21 Propositions

Claire stroked her fingers through his hair absently, staring out the open balcony door at the ocean, the sun just rising. Wesker's head was pillowed on her stomach, his arms wrapped around her waist, one hand tangled with hers in the sheets. Smiling down at him gently, she slid one smooth calf up the back of his thigh, tangling their legs.

Her thoughts swirled through her head in the morning light. She knew, against all odds, that she was undoubtedly in love with Wesker. Beneath his icy exterior and behind his burning eyes, was a man. A bitter, resentful, angry man, but a man nonetheless. She had noticed that since he had brought her into his life all those months ago, there were far fewer bioweapon attacks in the world and fewer casualties because of it. She wasn't naïve enough to think it was entirely because of her, but she like to think she had been a part of it. Something to tame part of his angry soul, a distraction from the continuous streams of data and boring conference calls and the murdering for world secrets. She knew without a doubt that he still did all those things, but she felt as if the burning drive, the undeniable need to wreak havoc on the world had dimmed just a little.

Wesker sighed in his sleep, his arms tightening around her, nuzzling into her stomach possessively, a low growl issuing from his lips. Combing her hair from her face with her nails, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his temple. He calmed then, a slight smile twitching the corners of his lips. Her hand went back to stroking his shining blonde hair, and she watched the sunlight creep imperceptibly across the floor.

This was a side of Wesker she rarely got to see. He was no longer the same red eyed tyrant who slammed her against the wall for her impertinence, his hand clenching on her throat as she struggled to free herself. His words were rarely bitter or harsh towards her unless she deserved it. This part of Wesker was almost human in a way he could never again be physically. This man had feelings and emotions. Granted, they were still hard to pick up on, but after having spent so long with him, sometimes she swore he could be skipping down the halls with glee.

They had conversations, shared their infrequent meals together, and slept in the same bed. Claire soon found out that Wesker preferred to spend the night cuddled with her if they went to bed. A few times, she had fallen asleep on one side of the bed only to wake up to find him draped across her body protectively, his face buried in her hair. The only thing their relationship, if that's what it even was, was missing, was a name. He wasn't her boyfriend and she was most certainly not his girlfriend. Claire wasn't fond of titles, but she was curious what he would call this. A partnership, consort, lovers perhaps…

She blinked when the sunlight finally leveled directly into her eyes, shaking her head slightly. Blinking a few times, she leaned down to once more press a kiss to his forehead, then slipped from beneath his heavy, hot weight. He frowned slightly then pulled her pillow under his face and didn't stir again. A small smile on her face, she stood and stretched, making her back crack pleasantly, then she slipped into the shower. As she stood beneath the hot spray of water, she let the water pound down on her skull, savoring the warmth against her sticky skin.

Feeling slightly disgusting, she realized that it had been over a week since she had showered last. And she had cuddled with Wesker in bed. Suddenly self-conscious and embarrassed, she slathered soap onto a loofa and scrubbed her skin till it had a healthy blush. She washed her hair twice to get it clean once again. Finally, she felt like herself again.

Claire was just rinsing the last of the conditioner from her hair when she felt herself pulled back against a hard chest, burning lips dropping seductive kisses the length of her neck. She shivered when he nipped the tendon in her neck and shoulder, her arms reaching back to close around his neck. One hand slid to her waist, pressing her hips back against his hard length, the other to softly cup her breast. He gently pinched her rosy nipple between his thumb and index finger, rolling it gently.

"Albert," she whispered, tipping her head to the side to give him greater access to her skin.

"Good morning, my lady," he purred, his voice slightly rough from sleep. "I must thank you for your assistance this past week. It was unnecessary but appreciated."

She shivered. "I wasn't going to just leave you there," she whispered, her heart racing, her fingernails digging into his scalp.

She turned around in the circle of his arms to face him as he pressed her against the slick wall of the shower, slipping his leg between hers. He was busy pressing kisses to her collar bones as her fingers grasped his hair, pulling him closer. His hands were filled with her magnificent breasts, cupping, shaping, caressing.

With a groan, he leaned back to look down at her, his eyes a gentle golden glow. "As delightful as it sounds to ravish you in the shower this morning, I do, however, need to return to the lab." He stroked the side of her face with his fingertips. Her eyes fluttered at the contact, her breathing still ragged from his earlier teasing.

Frowning up at him, she shook her head to clear her brain from the fogginess he had caused. _Damn him_. Feeling achy and warm from the building pleasure, she slipped from the shower when he reached for the unmarked bottle of soap and the ever ebony washcloth.

The man and his work. Sighing, she shook her head, perusing the closet for something to put on. Even having been unconscious and half dead for seven days did nothing to stop his scheming. Settling on a dark purple sundress and slipping it on, she heard the water turn off and him step from the shower.

_What a tease._

* * *

The day passed uneventfully for Claire. She plaited flowers together and hung them within the house to scent the air with their heady fragrances. Soon the house was festooned with garlands and the majority of the flat surfaces had vases and bowls with more flower arrangements. Eventually, she ended up plaiting purple and white hibiscus into her hair, sitting cross legged in the sand on the beach. She stared absently out over the ocean before her.

Her sharp senses made it that much more enjoyable. The thundering crash of the surf before her, the salty tang of the air, the stench of seaweed that lay tangled and half dried on the beach from the high tide, and the raucous calls of the seagulls as they scoured the beach in search of food. The sun against her skin, hot and comforting, cooled pleasantly by the misting breeze.

Her eyes focused down into the dark depths where the cave resided. It had been a while since she had been down there. Making up her mind, she strode back into the house, brushing sand from her bare legs on the way. She put a tank top and bikini bottom on, strapping her knife to her thigh. Digging around in the kitchen, she came up with a waterproof flashlight. Setting her cargo on the hall table, she looked over her shoulder at the barren steel lab door. Unfortunately, it was shut completely.

Hesitantly, she reached out a hand and rapped on the cold metal. Her sharp ears heard the sound of a chair being pushed back and then the light, steady footprints of Wesker coming to answer it. A split second later, she was greeted with flashing sunglasses and a sense of unease.

"Miss Redfield," he greeted her in a flat voice.

Claire swallowed. She still got nervous when he talked like that. It used to mean that she was moments from being hurt. Now, while less likely to inflict pain, it meant that he was irritated. "Uh, I'm gonna go explore that underwater cave you showed me," she trailed off, staring intently at his chest.

His fingers slid lightly down the flowers braided into her hair, a small smirk on his face. "Indeed," he murmured, slipping his arm around her waist and pressing her closer. One hand slipped up to caress the side of her cheek. He gently pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, then whispered, his lips brushing hers. "Until later then. " Then he disappeared down the hall once again, the door pulled firmly shut behind him.

Now feeling rather irritated herself, she huffed a piece of hair out of her face and marched back down to the beach, snatching the flashlight off the table on her way past. Plucking the flowers from her hair, she dropped them to float in the surf as she stood in the water. She turned and dove beneath the crystalline waves, her sharp eyes watching shoals of small fish dart away from her passage. At the sharp drop off, she dove deeper, feeling the slight push of pressure on her ears. The archway loomed before her as she angled herself towards the darkness.

Slapping the flashlight against her hand when it flickered, the underwater world around her was suddenly thrown into sharp relief. She hadn't noticed last time, but there were statues made of a strange black stone. Gliding closer to one, Claire touched a fingertip to the cheek of a merman. The stone was almost unnervingly warm to the touch for having been underwater for what looked like centuries. Tendrils of lichen trailed from his elbows and ears, waving gently in the current, his chest stained green with more. As she inspected the statue further, she noted the look on his face and was disturbed. He seemed to be staring _at_ her, instead of the normal, vacant stare of a statue. His mouth was stretched in an angry scream, a small nest of crustaceans within. Shivering slightly, she swam past him to a new figure.

This one was the octopus-looking one, but it was most definitely not an octopus. It had tentacles coming from his chin, waving menacingly around its face. The sculptor had it crouched down, its arms and legs ending with vicious looking claws, its eyes slits of hate. It too, was made of the same black stone, slathered with green lichen ribbons.

Frowning slightly at her slight breathlessness, she sped past the rest of the shadowy statues towards the opening above. As she gripped the side of the pool, she slid easily from the water and crouched at the edge. Wringing the excess water from her hair and shirt, she stepped towards an earthen shelf. It held the other colored stones like the blue one she had upstairs in the living room. She was glad she had a sharp memory as she began mentally cataloguing the murals and carvings on the walls.

* * *

A few days later, Claire was seething. Wesker had yet to come out of the lab, having locked the door so she couldn't enter. She had gone from concerned to hysterical to suspicious to irate when he still hadn't opened the door. If she could get her hands on him, she'd wring his demon-eyed ass. She was in the middle of insulting his masculinity when he stepped smoothly from the door, his eyes flashing.

"You and I both know that I do not have pansies on my ass, dear heart," he said smoothly, folding his arms and frowning at her.

Claire gaped at him. She was standing with her hands on her hips, screaming through the door at him. "It's about damn time!" she yelled, poking him roughly in the chest with her finger.

He stared down at her through his sunglasses, his eyes blazing. "I wouldn't recommend doing that again," he growled, snatching her wrist in his hand and stopping her mid-motion.

"What the hell were you doing in there? Why didn't you answer the fucking door?" she shouted, wrenching her hand from his grasp.

"Watch your tone with me, Miss Redfield," he hissed, gripping her chin tightly.

Then suddenly, he was viciously shoved back a few feet. He could feel the imprint of her hand on his chest, even before his eyes flashed to her. She was standing, feet braced, flat hand outstretched from where she punched him in the chest, ripping his hand from her face. Her dress was rippling around her from the force of her push.

Wesker snarled, his eyes flaring angrily as he intercepted another punch, this one aimed at his face. As her leg swept towards his head, he grasped her ankle and yanked her down to the floor. He knelt down on her twisting form, pressing his knee into the middle of her back.

"Let me go!" she demanded, trying to buck him off, her hands and feet scrabbling to gain purchase beneath her. Reaching up behind her, she yanked him off balance and surged to her feet again. Once more, she attacked him, fists and feet flashing. Never had Wesker worked so hard to defend himself. He almost felt human for a moment. He blocked every single blow, but they were harder and heavier than even Chris's had been last time they had battled.

Maybe he should finalize her fighting skills, hone her to be his match. Then, blocking another kick to his side and a blow to his temple, he gripped her wrist. He spun her around and yanking her arm up behind her back, slammed her into the wall.

"Let me go!" she howled, making his ears ring faintly.

"Explain your temper tantrum," he demanded, shoving her against the wall again when she tried to wriggle free.

Claire growled at him, trying to wrench herself free again.

"Answer me!" He said, his voice hard and unyielding to the almost certain pain he was causing her.

Claire whimpered slightly when her forehead hit the wall, more in annoyance than pain. "Why didn't you come home? It's been five days! I thought something happened to you again and then you locked the fucking door! How the hell was I supposed to know what was going on?" she yelled, trying to wiggle loose again. "For all I know, you relapsed and died on the lab floor and how was I supposed to know! I was worried sick and then I thought you were doing it to spite me. Then you just walk through the door like there's nothing fucking wrong!" She bucked against him again, trying loosen his grip on her shoulder.

Wesker pressed her against the wall with his body again, sandwiching her between him and the wall. Somewhere in his memory the phrase "Jill sandwich" rang faintly. "I said watch your tone, Miss Redfield," he growled, pinning her wrists against the wall with his hands, his lips against her ear. He smirked when he felt her shiver involuntarily. When she quieted, he let go of her wrists and stepped away from her, straightening his black dress shirt and black suit coat. He pushed his sunglasses up his nose and fixed her with a piercing glare.

"I was taking care of business that needed attending. I was," he paused. "Unavailable for the last week and I am an important man in the world, dear heart. Some want me alive, some want me dead." She was still glaring at him, rubbing her wrists, her face burning. "Which brings me to another point," he said, sitting in his comfortable leather chair in the corner, swinging his booted feet up on the ottoman. "During your little tantrum just now, I noticed you've gotten stronger. Perhaps we should skip the beginner courses and teach you the finer points, shall we?" He cocked his head at her, steepling his gloved fingers.

Claire still wasn't satisfied with his answer. She glared at him again. "You still could have come to tell me that you were going to be gone so long. How was I supposed to know you were still breathing?" she muttered, crossing her arms and looking away.

Wesker chuckled. "I apologize."

Claire sighed. "So what were you doing? Are you really okay?" she asked, stepping closer to him, looking into his face. He saw her eyes flick over his face and down his body before meeting his.

He held his hand out to her, taking his glasses off and setting them aside. "I'm fine, dear heart, and you know better than to ask about my work. But, I can tell you that we may be gaining a new living space in the near future. That is, if things continue to go smoothly."

Claire took his and sat down on his lap, leaning against his chest, her head tucked under his chin. His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close. She just nodded when she heard his news. She didn't know how she felt about moving, honestly. This was the house where she had died and been reborn. This was the house that she and Wesker had shared, without another living soul. All of those things and more made it a conflicted emotion. As much as she enjoyed the tropics, it had lost its novelty after so long.

They were silent for a time, then Claire felt a buzz beneath her bum from his pocket. Rolling her eyes, she slid to her feet as he pulled the phone free.

"Speak," he snapped into the device, slipping his sunglasses back onto his face. Claire hesitated for a moment, then pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and slid from the room. Idly, she wandered down the hall to the enormous, floor to ceiling bay window that looked out over the ocean.

The skies were dark and angry looking. Fat, black clouds dripped large drops to splatter against the window in front of her. Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of lightening, almost instantly followed by the bass rumble of thunder. The hairs on the back of Claire's neck stood up as she grinned slightly. She had always loved thunderstorms. Opening the windows to the oncoming storm, she let the wild winds whip through the house, billowing curtains and tearing at her hair and dress wildly.

With another silver flash of lightening, the rain came down in torrents, splattering on the floor in front of the open windows. Instead of shutting them, she opened them wider, standing in the spray. The wind whipped her hair around her face as she giggled and danced in the rain. Soon, her dress and fiery hair were plastered to her body like a second skin. More lightening split the sky, momentarily blinding her, the thunder making her ears ring. Grinning madly, she spun in the rain, her arms outstretched, head thrown back to the heavens.

As she spun, she caught a flash of red in the darkness and jumped. She whipped around to inspect and slowly focused on Wesker who was leaning against the door frame like a panther lounged watching its prey. His arms were crossed over his chest and his sunglasses were missing. He had discarded his suit jacket and had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt much like he used to when he was still captain of the S.T.A.R.S. team.

And the look on his face was positively lustful.

Claire shivered as his golden scarlet eyes bored into hers, giving her such an intense look, she gulped. There was no tenderness in that stare, only pure lust. Staring at him warily, she turned to face him completely, her hands clenched at her sides. Lightening outlined his dark form for a moment. Rain trickled between her breasts and down her back, tickling her skin. Strands of her hair were stuck to her cheeks and plastered over her shoulders.

For a moment, neither one of them moved. Wesker's eyes swept up and down Claire's body in a way that made her skin feel scorched and tingly. Not having donned a bra that day in favor of a halter top dress, her nipples hardened beneath the wet fabric, her arousal suddenly very obvious.

Instantly, his head was pressed to her breast, his teeth gently nipping the hardened nub through her dress. "I approve," he growled against her skin, still nipping at her skin. His hands splayed over her bum, pressing her against him when her knees threatened to give out. She gasped, her fingers clenched in his hair. She gasped again when he switched his attentions to the other nipple, pushing her back against the window.

Claire was in pleasurable agony. Between Wesker's hot mouth and the cold rain, she felt confused as to whether she was burning up or freezing solid. Lightening blinded her as thunder made the glass shake against her. She shivered as his bare hand brushed the back of her neck, tugging at the ties of her dress. Then suddenly, her bare breasts were pressed against the wet fabric of his shirt as he tugged her earlobe between his teeth. A breathy moan escaped her lips as his hands slid beneath her wet skirt and hiked one of her legs around his waist, forcing her to stand on tiptoe.

He pressed his burning lips to hers, his tongue demanding entrance to her mouth. As she readily complied, he pressed his hips against hers, grinding into that sweet, sweet spot. She groaned again, her fingers yanking on the buttons of his shirt in her haste. She needed him naked and she was going to do her damnedest to get him that way.

But he had other ideas. "I don't think so," he murmured, his breath hot on her ear once more. He caught her hands and held them against the wall above her head. Leaning back, he stared down at Claire, his eyes blazing goldenly, tinged darker with red. Her dress was pooled around her hips, her hair slipping down across her breasts alluringly in the rain. "Perfection," he whispered and crushed his mouth to hers once again. The breeze was almost unbearably cold where she wasn't pressed against his hot skin.

Claire tugged feebly at her arms, wishing desperately to touch his skin, to tease him as he had teased her. Wesker just smirked and leaned against her arms harder. His lips traveled across her cheek and down her neck, nibbling and sucking on all the places that made her moan and cry out. Sliding his hands down her arms to pin her elbows against the glass, he covered one nipple with his mouth and sucked. Claire cried out, trying to press against him to put pressure where she so desperately needed it. His tongue swirled around her nipple, then he watched it pucker as the cold wind swept across her wet skin.

"Quit teasing," she gasped as he did it again and again, driving her insane with pleasure.

Wesker chuckled darkly. "Are you tired of my attentions, dear heart?" he murmured, biting down on a nipple with just the perfect amount of pleasure and pain combined. She writhed against him, still seeking some sort of relief from the onslaught of pleasure. He trailed a finger between her breasts, then hooked her dress with a finger and ripped it away from her skin. It fell with a wet splat on the floor behind them.

Then, without warning, Wesker spun her around and pressed her against the glass. Her nipples burned against the cold, sending sharp bolts of pleasure to her core. He swept her hair to the side and bit down on her neck, feeling her thrash against him. Lightening flash as soon as his teeth met her skin. Her hands still pinned above her head, she could do nothing to stop him or encourage him. Reaching down, he divested himself of his trousers and slid his hot, hard length between her thighs, coating them both with her hot slickness.

"Albert!" she wailed, her knees trembling again. He was so close to where she needed him to be. Why wouldn't he just quit teasing? He slid between her thighs again, making her shudder against him. One hand slid between her body and the cold window, his fingertips gently brushing against her clit. Thunder rumbled deeply around them.

"You're so wet, aren't you, Claire?" he whispered into her ear, swiping his fingers through her heat again as he pumped against her. "You like it when I'm rough, don't you?" He bit down on her neck again, his fingers pressing into her heat. All she could do was moan loudly, her hand scrabbling anxiously against the glass.

Reaching down, he readjusted his angle and then slowly pushed inside her, a hiss of pleasure issuing from between his clenched teeth. She was so hot and tight around him. He pulled out and slammed back into her, making her barely refrain from screaming. She was momentarily blinded by another flash of lightening.

"Albert!" she gasped, her hands clenching and unclenching above her head. She was so close to the edge, her knees felt like jello. A few more good thrusts like that and if his hand kept flicking her clit the way it had been, she'd go screaming happily over the edge. "Can't… stand…" she bit out, feeling the waves growing higher and higher within her.

"Fuck, Claire, I wanted this to last!" he growled as she collapsed. She knelt on hands and knees in front of him and looked at him over her shoulder, her green eyes flashing with golden fire, waving her derriere at him enticingly.

Instantly, he was behind her, slipping into her hot depths once again. His hips slammed into hers, making her scream out in pleasure. She threw her head back and Wesker wrapped a hand in her hair, forcing her to keep her head up. He could see her eyes gleaming like a cats' in the reflection in the window. Liquid emerald fire stared defiantly back. She pushed back against him, their hips meeting a few more times before an involuntary scream burst from her lips, her muscles clenching around him tightly, her eyes dark with the intensity of her orgasm.

"Good girl," he murmured, then slammed against her once more, a long groan echoing her scream as he poured himself inside her. Gently, he trailed kisses down her spine as she lay shuddering on the floor in front of him, gasping for air. Cold rain washed over their heated skin as he slipped from her skin to sit against the window and gather her into his arms.

Claire looked up at him blearily, a small smile on her face. She yawned and snuggled closer to him, uncaring that they were still being soaked. Wesker held her close, brushing her sodden hair from her face.

"How does Austria sound, dear heart?"


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22 Equals

"Austria…?" Claire focused sleepily on his words. Frowning slightly in question, she looked up at him. His gaze was focused off to the side to watch the raging storm outside.

Wesker nodded and looked down at her, a smirk crossing his lips. "But first things first," he stated, brushing his hand down her arm, hugging her closer as the rain continued to fall. "We must complete your training. I want you on par with me, understand? Until then, we stay put."

She nodded slowly against his shoulder, yawning again. Wesker smiled down at here with what could only be described as quiet tenderness. It was hardly more than a softening of his eyes and an unfurrowed brow. Scooping her up in his arms, he made his way back through the house, upstairs towards their bedroom.

"Stay here," he ordered, placing her gently on the bed. He vanished into the bathroom and returned with a fluffy black towel. He draped it over her head, gently rubbing the excess water from her hair. Then he knelt down in front of her and took her foot in his lap and gently wiped it dry. He moved to the other foot, then worked his way up her legs and down her arms. As he pressed the towel against her breast, he leaned forward to press a soft kiss to her trembling lips. The towel slipped over her nipples, his bare fingertips ghosting behind.

Claire shivered. The golden god before her was being, dare she say it, _tender_. The silken caress of his fingertips against her hot skin, the soft rub of the luxurious towel, the golden burn in his eyes, they all made her breath hitch in her throat. Then he kissed her. It was soft and slippery and utterly perfect. His lips brushed against hers a few times, then his tongue, very softly, traced her lips. His hands, buried in the towel, slipped over her breasts again, then down the inside of her thigh.

With a groan, he dropped the towel to the floor and buried his fingers in her hair, pulling her closer. His lips pressed against hers slowly, seductively. He gently pressed her back against the sheets, his weight balanced on his elbows next to her shoulders.

Claire's hands slid up his back, pressing herself closer to him. She met his kisses greedily, happily. She knew she loved Wesker, but this was something completely different. This was as if he was telling her that _he_ loved _her_. She sighed as his lips traced over her cheekbones and down her throat.

"_Mine_," he growled into her ear, pressing her possessively into the mattress. She could feel his hard length pressed against her hip, twitching at his words. Blinded by the pleasure he was inflicting, her eyes flew open at his declaration. She knew it was more than owning her as a possession. His voice was deep and rich, thick with emotion as he had uttered the single word.

"Always," she mouthed, unable to form audible words. She slipped her fingers into his wet hair, dragging his lips back to hers. He leaned to one side without breaking the kiss, a bare hand trailing down her chest, over her breast, across the flatness of her belly, and slid across the svelte hollow of her hip. His finger slipped down into her heat, then trailed down her thigh, spreading her wetness on her already damp skin. "Albert," she whispered as he pressed a kiss to her left nipple.

He moved slightly then he was pressing against her, begging entrance to her burning heat. She raised her hips against him, silently granting him access. Staring into her eyes, he pushed himself deep within her, relishing the high, breathy moan that escaped her parted lips. Her eyes stared unseeingly at the ceiling, her fingers clenched in his hair, a look of pure ecstasy on her face.

"Albert," she moaned when he pulled out and thrust back in slowly. Slowly, she focused on his face, one hand slipping down to stroke his cheek. "I love you," she murmured, her head falling back as he thrust in once more.

He didn't move for a moment, looking down at her with an odd expression on his face. Pressing a long, slow kiss to her panting lips, he whispered, "I know."

Wave after wave built up inside Claire as his words echoed in her ears. Those words were different than any other he had uttered before. There was no harshness, no resentment, no anger, no disapproval. They came from a man who had finally realized that there was someone for him in the cold, lonely world. He didn't need the bitterness and rage when he was with her.

Her fingernails pricked his shoulders as she neared the edge. Each stroke of his hips against hers brought her nearer and nearer. He watched her eyes cloud over, her head drop back and a strangled, moaning cry was wrenched from her as she shattered beneath him again. "Albert!"

Hearing his name from her lips brought him to his own release. "Claire," he whispered in her ear, pressing within her once more, his arms wrapped possessively around her, her hands clenched in his disheveled hair.

* * *

They were lying in bed, Claire still bathing in the afterglow of the mind blowing sex they'd just had. Wesker was laying back against the pillows, one arm behind his head, the other wrapped around Claire, holding her close. Her head was on his shoulder, snuggled neatly beneath his chin. The sheet was tangled with their legs, wrapping them together.

Claire yawned and dropped a kiss to his perfectly chiseled pectoral. "So what was that for?" she asked him, a slight smirk dancing across her lips.

Wesker cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. "What was what?" he questioned her, trailing his fingertips down the side of her face.

Claire giggled and kissed his palm. "The amazing sex in the rain and then all… _that_… when we made it to the bedroom," she said, entwining their fingers.

Wesker stared down at her for a moment, then smirked. He pulled her up to press a kiss to her lips, laugh quietly. "The rain was your punishment. I told you to behave and you didn't listen to me." Claire made to protest, but he silenced her with another kiss, neatly flipping her under him. "The bedroom was to thank you for taking such excellent care of me. And because you're mine." He looked down into her eyes, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips, never breaking eye contact.

The smile that crossed Claire's face was almost blinding.

Wesker smiled down at her and pressed a quick kiss to her lips again, then made to stand. "As comfortable as this bed is and as enticing as your skin and scent are, my lady, I fear I am needed back in my laboratory. If we are to go to Austria, someone must do the work." He padded into the bathroom and Claire heard the water turn on.

Grinning madly, she rolled over, burying her face in Wesker's pillow and suppressed the urge to squeal like a little girl. _Mine_. The word echoed through her mind, making her heart fluttering happily in her chest. She kicked her feet in the air, giggling wildly. She inhaled deeply, relishing the scent of his pillow. Warm, spicy, intoxicating. One hundred percent Wesker.

As she lay there, basking in the glow of his possession, she heard the water shut off in the bathroom. A few moments later, Wesker stalked out, a black towel hanging dangerously low on his narrow hips. Claire watched him appreciatively as he stepped into the closet to dress. She watched his towel slip to the floor, the sunlight from the open balcony door gilding his naked form.

Claire felt her mouth dry as she stared at him. He was all hard planes of lean muscle, his skin like liquid alabaster poured over marble. His muscles bunched and stretched enticingly as he dressed himself, feeling her hot eyes watching him. "Enjoying the view, dear heart?" he chuckled, slipping a black button up dress shirt over his shoulders. He leaned against the door frame to watch her as he buttoned it up. He smirked when she hummed with appreciation, her eyes slipping up and down his lithe body. Stepping towards her, he rolled his sleeves up again, baring his muscular arms.

Grinning, she sat up in bed, pressing a kiss to his burning lips as he leaned down, stroking a hand through her tangled hair. He drank in the sight of her naked form shimmering in the sunlight, nested in a pool of white sheets, her hair blazing around her head like a halo. Her eyes burned into his skin as she watched him. "I shall be in the lab if you have need of me, my dear," he said, pressing another kiss to her puckered lips. She nodded in response, trailing a hand down his arm as he turned to leave, her smile still blazing.

* * *

As Wesker stepped through the doorway to his lab, he knew he had come to a pivotal decision. He was going to offer to Claire a glimpse into his work. Not everything, no, but let her see what he did most days. He was going to Austria to hopefully find a company that wasn't a complete waste of time, and offer them his superior intellect. There were only so many things he could do from this tropical refuge and he knew she would say yes.

She didn't need to see the dirty, gory side of his work; threatening lives, murdering for silence, punishing those who didn't give him what he wanted. Wesker was also very secretly please that her brother was no longer a factor in her decisions. Him dying was one of the best things he could have asked for. True, he was irritated that Chris had died in something as mundane as a plane crash, but it made his life that much simpler.

Wesker settled himself behind his bank of computer screens, noticing that he had multiple new emails. Some of them were replies back from companies that might be suitable for him in Austria, others were from his personal networks of contacts. Sifting through them all quickly, he snapped open his laptop and began typing away.

A couple of his contacts were reporting strange outbreaks. Something that started out as a simple cold then declined rapidly to delusions, kidney failure, excessive amounts of liquid in the lungs, then a horrifying death of veins exploding. The death toll was less than five hundred overall, which was hardly worth grabbing his attention. The outbreaks were contained to small communities in icy, northern Russia and Canada, one or two in the southernmost part of South America, close to the South Pole. Frowning slightly, he looked into the matter more. He pursed his lips when he found out that Tricell had small groups dispatched to the infected areas, bringing their vaccines with them. Snorting derisively to himself, he set about condensing all of his data and research into his laptop.

A few hours later, he could smell the intoxicating, heady scent of her as she stepped cautiously into his lab. A smirk slid across his face. He had purposely left the door open, telling her that it was safe to enter. She stepped up behind him and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck, her hands gently rubbing his shoulders. Her hair fell to the side, tickling his cheek with its silken, scarlet strands. His hand dove into her hair, tugging her lips down to meet his.

"Hello," she murmured, leaning against him, a small smile dancing across her lips.

"Hello," he answered, stroking her hand with his. He had opted to not wear his buttery leather gloves today, knowing that he got a stronger response from his little Redfield if he touched her with bare skin. The little shivers and goose flesh that crawled up her skin were more than enough to make him smirk in satisfaction.

Claire cleared her throat quietly, relishing his bare touch. "Were you hungry at all?" she murmured, pressing another kiss beneath his ear.

Wesker hummed quietly in appreciation as her lips caressed his skin. "What were you planning to eat?"

"A sandwich if you weren't hungry. But I can make something else if you'd prefer," she offered.

"A sandwich will be plenty, dear heart," he said, turning his chair around to face her. He reached up and pulled her down for a lingering kiss. When Claire pulled away, Wesker was savagely happy to see the glazed look in her shining beryl eyes, her breath caught in her throat. She nodded and stepped back through the door, her scent lingering behind. Typing a few more sentences, he snapped his laptop closed and shut down the whirring computers around him. Stretching slightly to snap his spine back into place, he followed her out the door into the house.

He leaned against the door to the kitchen watching her bustle through cupboards and the refrigerator, selecting things and setting them on the counter. A few moments later, she turned to place two plates on the counter, pulling a pitcher of iced tea and pouring two glasses. She started slightly when he stepped into the room, a small smirk curling the corners of his lips.

Pulling a stool from beneath the counter, he seated himself and looked down at the sandwich in front of him. He had to admit, ever since Claire had been dropped into his life, the food he rarely ate had gone up substantially in quality. The sandwich in front of him was made on a fresh sourdough French roll, stuffed with cold lamb, mango chutney, shredded apples and gorgonzola cheese.

As he bit into the sandwich, Claire watched him, her own halfway to her mouth, watching his reaction. He eyed her silently as he chewed and swallowed. It definitely wasn't something he was expecting, but it was delicious nonetheless. Seeing that it was edible at least, she finally took a bite of her own. They finished their sandwiches in silence, Claire looking out the window over the ocean. Wiping the nonexistent crumbs from his lips with a napkin, he finished half of his iced tea, then cleared his throat.

Claire looked at him, and asked almost timidly, "So how was it?" She took a drink of her own tea.

"It was quite delicious," he stated, pushing his plate away from him. "Would you like to begin your real training this afternoon?"

Slowly, she nodded, finishing the last bite of her own sandwich. "I suppose the sooner I kick your butt, the sooner we move, right?"

He nodded, folding his hands beneath his chin. They had approximately two weeks before the annual meeting he needed to attend, which, hopefully for her Redfield stubbornness, was plenty of time for him to teach her what she needed to know.

Claire sighed, pushing her own plate away. She looked up at him. "I just… I don't know how I feel about moving away from here," she trailed off, now looking out the window again. Wesker was silent, sensing she wasn't done talking. "This is where I-"she gulped. "I _died_ here and you brought me back to life. This has been home since- since Chris died. This is where you got sick and I took care of you. There hasn't been anyone else but us. I just… I'm tired of the tropics, as gorgeous as they are, but there's the silly, sentimental side of me that doesn't want to abandon this place." She looked at him from the corner of her eye.

"Dear heart, we aren't abandoning this place. We can return any time you'd like. Austria is a new beginning for my research, and a change of scenery for us both," he stated. "As much as I, too, enjoy it here, tropical weather is getting old."

Claire nodded in agreement, the picked up their empty plates and glasses and deposited them in the sink. Leaning back against the edge of the counter, she asked "Do I need my gun this time around?"

Wesker shook his head. "No. However, I have a few things I need to do before we begin. Meet me outside on the lawn in an hour," he drawled, standing and striding over to press a kiss to her cheek. She shivered as his hot skin brushed her own. Claire nodded, and turned to wash the dishes that had accumulated during the process of making lunch.

* * *

Two weeks passed by them quickly. Claire spent the majority of her days training with Wesker until he was satisfied with her progress. They started as soon as there was enough light to see, paused only briefly for lunch or a long draught of water, and continued until it was dark. Only twice has she pinned him down, beating him. Both times, she could hardly move she was so exhausted, but when she looked down at him pinned beneath her, her knee in his back, she felt a flash of exultation. Both times she gently bit down on the tendon between his rigid shoulder and his neck, making him groan softly, her lips softly sliding against his hot skin.

She felt stronger and faster, flashing in and out of attack and defense as quickly as Wesker himself. The last two days of her training, neither could land a blow on the other. Four days they had trained in the middle of the night. He taught her to sharpen her eyes in the darkness, feel for her opponent, hear their movements and anticipate them rather than relying on just her vision.

Wesker was quietly proud of her accomplishments. He didn't have any doubts on her ability to learn what he needed to teach her, just on quickly she would learn. She had surprised them both the first time she had pinned him neatly beneath her. Nearly his equal in strength and already an excellent shot with almost any firearm she picked up, there was nothing left for him to teach her. He would make her spar with him frequently to keep her muscles in shape, but it was no as longer teacher and pupil.

They were leaving the next day. While he had next to nothing that needed to be packed and moved, Claire had a backpack with her computer and her notebooks with her underwater cave research and a small duffel bag with a couple of changes of their clothes and a few small mementos she had gathered from around the island. The luggage was stacked in the living room against the wall.

Claire was seated on the floor in front of his chair pulling her gun apart, cleaning and oiling it and fitting it back together. The care and attention to detail could have rivaled Wesker's own. Satisfied with the well-oiled _snick_ of the gun coming together once again, she strapped it back into her thigh holster and set it on the coffee table. Sliding the box of ammunition towards her, she thumbed the bullets down into the clips, reloading her three. She reloaded three more for Wesker, then closed the box and stowed it in the side pocket of their duffel bag. She stood, picking up the clips from the table and wandered into the lab where he was finishing up a few more things before he shut everything down.

"Here," she said, placing them on the desk at his elbow, leaning back against the edge. He quirked an eyebrow at her, looking up at her over the top of his sunglasses. "I think I have everything packed. I'm kind of upset to be leaving the cave and all those sea creatures down there. I still don't know what they are." She had brought the blue one back down into the cave with the others last night, stroking each one absently one last time.

Wesker made a noncommittal noise. He typed a few more keystrokes, then shut down his computer. Snapping the lid shut on his laptop, he deposited it in its padded case, then flicked the power off for the bank of computers on the wall. The room was significantly darker without the screen lights. He nodded towards the clips on the desk. "Thank you, dear heart," he said, drawing his gun from a desk drawer and picking up the briefcase, the clips and his gun, headed out the lab door. Claire trailed close behind him. She watched absently as he cleaned and oiled his own gun, inspecting each piece with a critical eye.

"What time do we leave tomorrow?" she asked, watching his hands knowingly piece his weapon back together. He pushed a new clip in and slid it back home within the holster.

"Nine in the morning, dear heart," came his reply.

* * *

**A/N: I realize that there are a lot of steamy scenes in this story. How I see it, Wesker is a man who gets what he wants. He obviously wants Claire. Therefore he has Claire. He's still partially human as you can see. Hopefully my characters are too unbelievable. I love my version of Wesker haha. Thank you for all the favorites and reviews! I apologize that it took me nearly four years to update this story again. I don't plan on abandoning it any time soon. I have the storyline all plotted out, now comes the part of just writing it all down.**

**Thank you so much!**

**Lady Anwe**


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23 My Love

"What am I supposed to wear to this ball?" Claire asked irritably when Wesker told her that they would be staying at a hotel tonight and attending a ball tonight for all the influential people in the bioengineering and pharmaceutical world. She didn't own anything even remotely fancy enough to wear to a ball. Where was she going to get one between now on the island and the ball tonight?

Wesker frowned at her. "Quit worrying about it, dear heart. Everything is taken care of."

The two hour helicopter ride to the airport was uneventful. Claire stared moodily out the windows, fiddling with her hair. Wesker was working. Again. He had told her when they had boarded the aircraft that they would not be using their own names. Instead, he had given her an ID with the name Natalia Orlevsky and her picture on it. She looked at his and noticed with a slight thumping of her heart, that they had the same last names. His name was going to be Erik Orlevsky. And since he was much too young to be her father and the fact that she looked nothing like him meant they were masquerading as a married couple.

_Yikes_.

The look on his face deterred her from asking questions so she was left to swallow her questions and entertain herself. She looked at his lean form, admiring the way his coat was tailored to flatter him perfectly, a black dress shirt left unbuttoned at the top exposing a small amount of his firm flesh. Those wonderfully soft, smooth gloves that made her eyes dark. His dress pants had precise creases in them, flattering his sculpted legs and backside. Maybe she was going to enjoy this more than she really should. She could stare at him forever. Biting her lip to bring her back to reality, she stared out the window once more.

Once they disembarked from the helicopter in what she guessed was Marrakech, they immediately got onto a small black plane for another three and a half hours until they landed in Innsbruck, Austria. Settling back into the set beside Wesker, Claire lay her head against his shoulder and looked out the window. Smirking, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, pulling out his laptop once again. Lulled by the sound of the computer keys clicking and the motion of the plane, Claire faded to unconsciousness.

Halfway through the flight, Wesker noted her lack of movement and questions. He leaned over to look into her face, mildly surprised that she was sleeping. Quietly, he shut his computer and pulled her into his arms, cradling her head to his chest, unbuttoning the top button of his coat. Propping his feet up on the seat across from him, he made himself comfortable, his lips brushing against her forehead.

A smile slid over her face and she snuggled closer to his chest, wrapping her arms around his. For some reason, the sight of her sleeping peacefully cradled in his arms made him feel more powerful than any diabolical plan had ever. This angel, this goddess, had chosen to stand at his side when she could have left almost a year ago. She had chosen him over her brother, the brother that had thrown her out of her home and disowned her. The thought made his lip curl in anger. He knew she had a small framed picture of the two siblings from a few years ago. She pulled it out when she was feeling sad and lonely.

When he felt the plane gradually begin its descent, Wesker brushed his lips over hers, slowly bringing her out of her slumber. "We're here," he murmured against her lips, then kissed her again. Claire's hand slid up to tangle in his hair, ruining its perfectness. She pressed her lips against his again. He obliged, then gently pushed her away so she would wake up.

"Don' wanna wake up…" she mumbled thickly into his shoulder. "I was having a good dream."

Wesker chuckled darkly. "Indeed. And what were you dreaming about, my dear?" He watched her sit up and knuckle her eyes, admiring her stretching figure from behind his sunglasses.

Claire glared at him playfully. "You."

He raised his eyebrow at her, a dark smirk on his lips. "And what was I doing in said dream?" he asked, propping his chin in his hand to stare at her.

Claire stretched again, a small squeal of pleasure escaping her as her joints clicked back into place. "Maybe I'll tell you when we get to the hotel," she leaned over and whispered against his ear seductively. Then she giggled, completely ruining the moment. Wesker just stared at her, an amused expression on his face. He handed her a pair of sunglasses to hide her magnificent eyes, feeling an unexpected pang when he could no longer see them.

After the plane landed and taxied to the hanger, they disembarked. Claire pulled her black button up straight, then smoothed her long coat of wrinkles. Someone from security was unloading the duffel bag from the storage compartment. There was a black Bentley waiting for them outside the door. The same man from security loaded the bag into the trunk for them, then opened the rear passenger door and saluted to them. Claire eyed him warily as she clambered into the back seat, Wesker sliding in behind her, snapping the door shut.

Without a word, the driver took off, exiting the airport and merging seamlessly into the steady afternoon traffic. As they entered the center of the city, the traffic grew steadily worse. Claire was glad she didn't have to drive in it. She had road rage issues and probably would have gotten out of the car and beaten the crap out of somebody. She told Wesker this, making him laugh quietly.

A few moments later, they pulled up outside an extremely fancy hotel, the kind Claire had only ever seen in the movies. As they pulled up to the door, a valet opened the door for her, offering her his hand to get out of the car. She hesitated then stepped out, yanking her coat straight once again. Wesker had retrieved the duffel bag from the trunk and was coming around to her side, offering her his arm. Blushing, Claire took it and followed him into the hotel.

She gaped as the stepped into the lobby. The floors were obsidian marble, interspersed with white columns supporting the vaulted ceiling. In the middle of the room was an indoor garden, glass paneling in the ceiling letting in the late afternoon sunlight. There were flowering trees and exotic flowers bordering a fountain that splashed noisily in the light. Claire was startled to see a male and female peacock strutting beneath the trees, the male's tail feathers spread magnificently behind him.

Wesker approached the desk, and told the man behind the counter his name. The man clicked something into the computer, then handed him a key card. "Swipe your key in the slot inside the elevator and it will take you to the top floor. Enjoy your stay, Mister and Missus Orlevsky," he said enthusiastically. Claire gave him an odd look, then was swept into the elevator, still on Wesker's arm.

When the doors opened, they stepped into a grand foyer. More black marble floors, recessed lighting shining on two dark oak, wooden doors. Swiping the key card through the slot next to the door, Wesker let them into a magnificent suite. It was blinding, so white was the room. Everything was white except the doors. Floor, ceiling, walls, furniture, decorations. It was almost sterile feeling, making her feel slightly itchy.

"Rather bright, isn't it?" Wesker growled, frowning and moving to close the blinds across the room. Without the sun glaring in, Claire could open her eyes and take off her sunglasses. Her eyes swept the room, noticing now that everything was very modern looking as well.

They were standing in a huge living room that faced a skyline view of the city below them. A large, white couch faced the window, complete with plushy looking pillows. Tucked into one corner, she saw a baby grand piano, which was also white. There was a small kitchenette with stainless steel appliances and white marble counters, and a square, sturdy looking wooden table with two chairs that matched. On the wall behind her were a pair of wooden doors the same dark color as the first. She wandered towards them, Wesker not far behind.

The room was as white as the living room had been; white satin duvet; white, silken sheets turned down; white curtains covering the floor to ceiling windows and white carpet. "Haven't they heard of color?" she muttered, opening the door across the room to find an equally white bathroom, complete with a white marble Jacuzzi.

Wesker shrugged and placed the bag on the padded bench at the foot of the bed. He shrugged out of his suit coat and threw it on the bed, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt to roll the sleeves to his elbows. He tossed his sunglasses on top of the white dresser, baring his crimson eyes. He opened the closet door and pulled out a garment bag, laying it across the bed.

"Didn't I tell you everything would be taken care of?" he drawled, pulling a black velvet box from his pocket and stepping up behind her. She turned to look at him, then her eyes landed on the black velvet box in his hand.

Claire stared at the box in his hand. _What the hell is this?!_ She picked it up and hefted it slightly in her hand. It was heavier than expected. When she opened it, she gasped. Inside was a diamond and emerald necklace made of gold. The silver was fashioned into small leaf shapes and outlined in diamonds with a dew drop from each tip cut of emerald. There were earrings to match.

"They're beautiful…" she whispered, her eyes shining. She brushed a finger over the cold stones, marveling in their beauty.

He gestured towards the bed. "This is for you as well. Shoes are in the closet." He smirked at the look on her face. Placing his gun in the nightstand drawer, he placed his briefcase between the nightstand and the bed. Then he pressed a kiss to her cheek and left the room for her to get dressed.

Claire stared at the beautiful jewelry in her hand. The set was magnificent. And had to have cost a fortune. Gently, she set them on the nightstand to look down at the nondescript, grey garment bag laying across the bed. Unzipping it, she revealed a forest green Grecian styled dress. Her mouth dropped open again. It was absolutely _gorgeous_. It was a one shouldered gown, a golden braided belt around the waist. A long scarf trailed from the shoulder, the material pinched in a brooch made of rose gold, craftily jeweled to look like moving flames.

As she stood in front of the mirror with the dress pressed to her chest, she stared at herself. The girl who stared back wasn't Claire Redfield at all. No longer was she adolescently skinny, her curves had filled in to give her a willowy, seductive shape. Her hair was no longer shiny auburn but more of a purple-y mahogany color, shining with golden highlights. Her face had lost every ounce of baby fat to reveal a perfect, heart-shaped face. Her eyes still stunned here every time she caught her reflection; a gorgeous, sensuous, mysterious green that shimmered. Claire was stunned. Whoever this woman was, she was _beautiful_.

Laying the dress reverently back down on the bed, she slipped out of her traveling clothes and into the shower. She showered on autopilot, still dazed by the gifts Wesker had given her. They were stunning. The jewelry alone must have cost a lot, then with the dress on top? She couldn't imagine spending that much money on frivolities. But, obviously he could afford it.

Wrapping her wet hair in a towel, she stepped out of the shower and smoothed an exotic smelling lotion onto her skin. She applied just enough makeup to give her eyes a smoky look, then went to slip on her dress. It settled around her in a wave of green chiffon floating down her legs to her ankles. Slipping her arm through the strap, she flipped the scarf over her shoulder, readjusting the flaming pin. There was only enough material in the back of the dress to cover her side for the strap, making her back completely bare.

In a moment of girlish glee, she spun around in the dress, making the skirt flare out around her. Giggling, she settled herself in front of the vanity in the bedroom, removing the towel from her hair. Slowly, she brushed and dried it, then brushed it until it shone like fire. She fixed her makeup and was fussing with her mascara when she felt someone press against her bare back.

"You look ravishing, dear heart," Wesker murmured, his voice thick. He brushed her hair aside and placed the necklace around her neck, his fingertips brushing her skin as he clasped it. "Perfection," he said, dropping a kiss to her bared shoulder. Claire blushed, taking the proffered earrings and threading them through her ears to complete the look.

Wesker disappeared into the closet for a moment, returning with a pair of golden, strappy heels that matched the dress. He placed them next to her on the floor and watched her place each delicate foot into a shoe and buckle the tiny buckle around her slender ankle. When she looked up at him, he offered her his hand, pulling her to her feet, twirling her around only to catch her in his arms. "You, Madame Orlevsky, look absolutely divine. Maybe I should keep you to myself tonight," he growled, clutching her close, his lips brushing her ear.

Claire shivered. "I thought you needed a job, Mister Orlevsky," she murmured, clenching her hands in his shirt, more than tempted by his words.

Wesker growled again. "Touché." Pressing her lips in a lingering kiss to the side of his neck, Claire let go so he could get ready as well. She wandered into the large living room again, the dress floating around her in dark green ripples. Surprised to see that it was now dark, the city below was lit with sparkling lights. She stared, slightly transfixed at the sea beneath her feet.

She turned when Wesker walked out of the bedroom, bowtie in his coat pocket, pristine white dress shirt almost buttoned, combing his hair back. And he thought she was beautiful. His hair was slightly damp still, his chest bare almost to his navel, and his sunglasses were nowhere to be found. But something wasn't right. There was no crimson or golden glow from his figure. They were an icy blue, a huge contrast from the deep, throbbing red they had been.

"What happened to your eyes?" she gasped, her brows furrowed in confusion.

Wesker chuckled and pulled a small white contact case from his pocket. "This is something else for tonight, my dear. Colored contact will only work for a short while as our virus will eat through them, but they last long enough for our uses. It would be rather suspicious if we wore our sunglasses to ball in the dark, now wouldn't it?"

Claire sighed in relief. Now that she had actually seen him without his intense Tyrant eyes, she wasn't sure how she felt. As she poked her own colored lenses into each eye and dabbing at the few tears that escaped, she looked at herself in the window's reflection. Her eyes were blue again. It wasn't the same blue that had been when she'd been human, but neither were the emerald fires they had been moments ago. They were the same ice blue color his were.

Wesker came to stand behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "Mister and Miss Orlevsky, huh?" Claire said quietly, leaning back against his chest. "So what does that make us?" she asked, tracing his bare knuckles with a fingertip.

"What do you want it to be?" he asked, burying his nose in her hair, his arms wrapping around her waist tightly.

Claire was silent for a moment. "Albert and Claire. I want to be Albert and Claire, but I suppose I'll settle for being Erik and Natalia."

Wesker cupped her face and slanted it back to press a hungry kiss to her lips. The angle was uncomfortable, but the passion and tenderness made it worth it. "One day, dear heart. One day," he murmured, looking down into her eyes. How strange it was to not see green blazing back at him, but only Claire could have that look in her eye.

He cradled her face in his hands as he pressed kiss after kiss to her burning lips. Claire shifted in his grasp to face him and press herself against his chest, her arms slipping under his unbuttoned shirt to stroke his ivory skin. As much as she wanted him to deepen the kiss and press her against the window, furiously removing their clothing, she knew they had to be leaving soon. She moaned in disappointment when he pulled back, and pressed a kiss to her forehead, her heart racing.

Smiling down at her tenderly, he stepped back from her heady embrace to button his shirt. He tucked it in then began tying his satiny black bow tie. Claire watched, somehow not surprised that he knew how to tie a perfect knot. As he straightened the knot in his reflection beside her in the dark window, she smiled slightly.

He looked like Captain Wesker of the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team again instead of Albert Wesker, mad scientist with his eyes no longer glowing. She had met him a few times while he was still Captain of the team, but briefly every time and only once without his sunglasses on. He had always been a very attractive man to her, her view tarnishing with the Arklay Mansion incident, but never disappearing.

"Ready, dear heart?" he murmured, holding his hand out to her, palm up. Swallowing thickly, Claire tentatively put her hand in his. His fingers wrapped around her hand and lifted it to his lips to press a burning, lingering, darkly promising kiss to the inside of her wrist.

He led her back into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor once again, holding her close to his side. Claire was surprised and pleased by his outward affection, snuggling closer under his arm. When the doors slid open, he led her, not out the doors into a waiting vehicle, but across the marble foyer to a pair of dark wooden doors that were thrown open invitingly.

Claire clenched her fingers nervously on his arm, her steps faltering. Wesker looked back at her in question, then noted the trepidation on her face. He pulled her off to the side, wrapping his arms around her protectively. "You can do this, my love," he murmured, stroking the backs of his fingers across her flawless cheek. He pressed her against him, his lips pressing a lingering kiss to hers. Her heart surged at his words. _My love…!_ Claire took a deep breath and looked up into his eyes, a warm smile spreading across her face.

He was right. She could.

"Let's go kick some ass," she said, smiling up at him.

Wesker grinned dangerously.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24 Masquerade

The ball room was already filled with people. Somewhere in the room, a string quartet was playing a beautiful waltz, many couples dancing to it. Along one wall was a banquet table filled with what Claire assumed was expensive appetizers and glimmering ice sculptures. As a waiter passed them with a tray full of fluted champagne glasses, Wesker plucked two of them and offered her one. He raised his glass to her and she clinked them together softly, a small smile on her face. She relished the way the icy beverage slid down her throat, pooling warmly in her stomach.

Settling his hot hand against her bare back, he steered her through the thronging crowds, greeting people when they stopped to chat with him. Wesker introduced them as Mister and Missus Orlevsky, and when people asked, he told them that he was looking to introduce himself to some of the chairs and heads of the pharmaceutical companies that were attending the ball. Most people's eyes flicked over Claire like she was nothing more than a shadow, for which she was grateful. Many of the men Wesker talked to had wives on their arms who complimented Claire's jewelry and dress. Feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious, she would complement them in return.

Claire hated politics. Even when it was time for the elections, she found the campaigning and politicking disgusting and annoying. Now, even an evening of politics was grating on her nerves, all the shameless flirting and fake compliments. As they moved through the crowd, she drained her glass, switching it for another full one when a passing waiter asked. The fizz made her nose tickle as she sipped it. She was glad Wesker knew what he was doing and knew exactly what to say because she had no idea and would have made a fool of herself if she had tried.

As they were stopped by yet another couple, Claire took an instant dislike to the mans' wife. She looked as if she were smelling something rotten, her face pinched and hard. If her face wasn't distorted, she may have been pretty, but nowhere near beautiful. Her hair was a mousey brown color, pinned tightly to the top of her head, a garishly yellow dress swathed her not so skinny form much too tightly. Raising her eyebrow slightly, Claire turned back to Wesker, threading her arm through his.

"I'm Rolf Claiborn. This is my wife, Melinda," the man was saying, gesturing to the woman in yellow standing next to him. He, himself, was in his late fifties, with salt and pepper hair, slightly overweight but with a genuine smile on his face.

"Charmed," Wesker said, not quite looking at her. He turned to Claire and raised her hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her skin, staring intimately into her eyes. Then he turned back to the man, slipping Claire's arm through his again. "This is my lovely bride, Natalia," he told them.

Rolf took her hand in his and pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles, a smile on his face. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Natalia," he said. He turned back to Wesker. "How did you ever become so lucky to have such a beautiful woman at your side?" he laughed good-naturedly. Wesker just gave him a knowing smile.

Melinda, however, did not look impressed in the least. Claire saw her beady little eyes flick down to her hand, obviously noting her lack of an engagement ring or even a wedding ring for that matter. A disgusting smile crept over her face. "I see you're not wearing a ring, _Natalia_," she sneered as their men talked about business.

Claire flushed with irritation. "It's at the jewelers. My dear Erik is having it upgraded, not that it needed it," she said, her voice like poisoned honey, baring her teeth in a mock smile that in no way reached her eyes.

Wesker overheard their conversation and grinned savagely in pride as Claire successfully thwarted her interrogator. His hand slid down her bare skin again, pulling her to his side. As the Claiborn's departed, Wesker swept her into his arms. "Care to dance?" he murmured, pulling her in for a soft kiss. The music had swept into a deep, almost haunting waltz as he led her to the dance floor. She was nervous, knowing only the basics of dancing. A few silly dances at weddings when she was younger and a faint memory of her mother attempting to teach her how were all she had.

With a flourish, Wesker spun Claire into his arms, his hand settling on her hip, the other holding hers out to dance. Swallowing, she said, "I don't know how to dance very well." She felt embarrassed. Wesker just smiled, one hand resting on his shoulder, the other clasped within his.

"Follow my lead."

Then they were smoothly sliding between the couples dancing. Wesker stared down into her eyes, a small smirk on his lips. Almost effortlessly, Claire followed him, surprising herself at the ease of their dance. The ballroom around them dimmed as she met his eyes. She could see his eyes blazing even if they were covered with blue. The color burned brighter, a golden tinge leaking through the plastic. She felt hypnotized as she looked into his eyes.

As she spun in his arms, the world could have ended for all she cared. This was the one place in the world she knew she wanted to be forever. The look on his face was possessive, tender and for her alone. The small smile that curved his lips was only for her and she knew it. Round and round they went, other couples stopping to stare at the pair who were so obviously wrapped up in each other. Wives stared at Wesker appreciatively while their husbands eyed at the fiery goddess in his arms.

Slowly the world faded back in as the dance ended. Claire blinked repeatedly, shaking her head slightly. Taking her hand, he led her towards the open garden doors, leaving the bright lights and tittering conversations behind. The night air was cool as he led her to a stone bench, then disappeared back inside for refreshments.

Claire looked up at the night sky, sighing happily. The night air was warm, a soft breeze blowing through the rose bushes and potted ornamental trees scattered about. There was too much light pollution, but the few stars she could see were shining brightly. Tonight was turning out to be one of the best nights of her life. She didn't know if Wesker was just playing the part of a loving husband for their charade, but she didn't care. While she wasn't hugely into the displays of affection in public, he kept it tasteful and made her feel like she was the only female in the world. She never knew how much his bare hand distracted her until it was pressed against her bare skin as she tried to follow the line of the conversation around her.

Wesker startled her out of her musings, handing her another fluted champagne glass that was perspiring lightly. Taking a long sip, she set the glass down on the stone railing behind her and leaned back on her elbows looking up at Wesker, crossing her legs demurely. He smirked down at her, draining his own glass of the bubbly liquid. "I didn't know you could dance," she smiled, quirking an eyebrow at him.

He chuckled. "I know quite a few dances actually. Birkin held formal occasions often for Umbrella. Unfortunately, I had to learn quickly so as to keep my superiority within the company. It was ridiculous but necessary, according to Birkin. Spencer demanded that I learn so I could entertain his leeches at these sorts of things." He was referring to the schmoozing and flirting with wealthy benefactors and their ever-dull wives and daughters.

Claire shook her head, still smiling. "Well at least he did one thing right," she murmured, crossing her legs and leaning back to reach her beverage.

"Indeed," Wesker said, reaching down to pull her up against him. His lips sought her ear, his fingers buried in her hair. "I can even teach you how to tango, dear heart." His hands slowly slid down her shoulders, down her sides and pulled her hips tight against his, startling her. Claire's mouth went dry. She knew the tango was one hell of a sexy dance and picturing Wesker dancing it just about made her spontaneously combust. _Wow_. Smirking at the vacant look on her face, he pressed a kiss to her lips. "Perhaps another time," he murmured, reaching back to hand her the half empty glass of champagne. "Shall we?" He indicated towards the ballroom with his nod. Draining the glass, she nodded in response, her arm slipping through the crook of his elbow once again.

They talked to many more people, some who were very influential, others not so much. One man stood out in her mind more so than the others. He was another older man, his greasy hair slicked down in vaguely like Wesker's was. While Wesker's was still smooth and soft looking, this man's looked greasy like it hadn't been washed in a long time. His dark eyes and hooked nose gave him an almost creepy look as his eyes skimmed over Claire's form unpleasantly. He had been wearing a grey suit and carried a cane. While she never saw him use it, she decided it was more of a fashion accessory than a necessity.

She remembered his name being Franz or Ferdinand or something of that ilk, and that he was the lead researcher at a different pharmaceutical company. GSB, she thought. Claire didn't know what it stood for and didn't care enough to ask. While he was talking to Wesker, his eyes kept wandering to Claire, staring with such intent, she felt like she was going to need to scrape the slime from her skin.

They had also met the new head of Tricell, a frumpy, ambitious woman named Laura Muriel. She was abrupt and unpleasant but was polite enough in their conversation as she sipped on a beer, looking very out of place at the function. Claire grinned savagely when Laura had commented something about Excella disappearing without a trace, sending them a letter stating that Laura was to be left in charge. Wesker smiled dangerously, agreeing at the convenience. They didn't talk to her long before Wesker was steering her away to meet someone else.

A dark skinned man from India, complete with ornate turban on his head, named Fraser Fahd was the head of company called Gilead Engineering. He was a pleasant fellow, brushing a friendly kiss across her knuckles when Wesker introduced her. He had a small, very stunning exotic beauty of a wife. She was wrapped in a gorgeous orange sari trimmed with black and golden vines, golden bangles on her slim wrists, a beautiful pearl necklace that dripped with precious rubies. A large ruby rested between her eyebrows on an ornate golden headdress. Her hair was braided and coiled into a bun on the back of her head, a dupatta draped gracefully over it, hanging down her back. As she reached out to shake hands with both Wesker and Claire, Claire saw delicate mehndi tracing across her small hands and up her delicate wrists.

Claire instantly felt inadequate compared to the small woman before her. She was beautiful and exotic in a way she would never feel. Her name, she found out, was Nisha. A soft spoken, but opinionated and strong woman, she revealed that she had indeed been born in India, but attended school in Europe where she had met Fraser. They had gotten recently married while there, then moved back to India where Fraser's father had stepped down as the head of their company, giving the position to his son. Fraser had waved over a waiter with yet another glass of the bubbly alcohol, proposing a toast to new friendships. They clinked glasses and drank.

As the night wore on, they danced a few more times. Wesker never took his hand from her, preventing any other man from asking her to dance, for which she was eternally grateful. Claire met the leaders of two other companies between dances, none of them quite as entertaining as Fraser and Nisha had been. There was the attractive older man from WilPharma who continually pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He was pleasant but Claire thought he seemed a little conniving, not quite able to put her finger on why. Then there was the man who wore a Stetson hat from Bioden Pharmaceuticals. He wore a gaudy pinky ring made of gold and had a collar tie made of gold, encrusted with diamonds. His Texan voice was loud and grating on Claire's ears. She caught Wesker's eye and he curled lip faintly with irritation. As the loud Texan depart, Claire took Wesker arm again, laying her head briefly against his shoulder.

"Tired, dear heart?" he asked quietly, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as she leaned against him.

She nodded, stifling a yawn. Her feet were killing her. She wasn't used to wearing heels, favoring her comfortable black boots instead. Letting him lead her around the room once more, he made their excuses. Soon, they were walking across the empty hotel lobby, her golden heels clacking on the marble floor. As they stepped into the elevator, she stumbled, catching herself against his chest. He caught her, his hands gripping her shoulders gently.

Staring down into her eyes, he could see her contacts already beginning to break down. The green was shining around her pupils, much more brightly than the blue that was trying to cover them up. He could see how tired she was even if she didn't want to admit it. Pressing a kiss to her lips, he swung her up into his arms, tucking her head under his chin. He smirked as she snuggled closer to his heat, her arms around his neck.

When the elevator announced the arrival to their suite and swiping the keycard through the slot, he pushed open the door with his hip, kicking it shut behind him. He swept through the suite into their bedroom where he deposited her on the edge of the bed. She blinked up at him demurely, stifling another yawn.

Wesker smiled down at her, gently brushing a strand of her hair from her face, then gripping her chin and lowering his lips to hers. The kiss was slow and soft. There was no seduction in this kiss, just the soft, tender passion of love. He pressed his forehead to hers, staring down into her ever greening eyes, an almost tender look on his face.

Claire smiled up at him. "I think I'm going to take a bath," she murmured, running her fingertips down the side of his face. "My feet hurt and that Jacuzzi looks amazing." He nodded and stepped back. Reaching down, she removed her shoes, tossing them to the end of the bed. As she stepped into the enormous bathroom, she looked back over her shoulder to see him removing his bow tie and dropping his jacket on the bed. Smiling to herself, she drifted over to the tub, twisting the knobs until it spouted the temperature of water she wanted. Satisfied, she shimmied out of her dress and left it puddled on the floor, then poked her contacts out. She was mildly surprised when they fell apart in her hand once she had removed them.

Wrapping a decadent towel around her, she stuck her head out the door, looking for Wesker. Surprisingly, he wasn't in the bedroom. His shoes and tie were there, but he was not. Brows furrowed, she stepped out of the bedroom to find him reclining on the couch looking out over the sleeping city, a glass tumbler of some amber liquid in his hand.

"Albert?" she asked quietly, clinging to the door frame of the bedroom.

He leaned back to look at her. She was pleased to see that he had removed the blue contacts and his gold and crimson eyes were staring back at her. "Yes, dear heart?"

She fidgeted. "Would you-would you like to join me?" she asked nervously. She knew he took showers, but asking him to climb into a giant bathtub with her was somehow forbidding.

Wesker didn't answer. He drained what was left in the glass and set it aside. Then he stood and padded towards her in his black stockinged feet. Threading his hands through her hair, he pressed a kiss to her lips. "Not tonight. Perhaps tomorrow night," he murmured. "I have business that needs attending to tonight."

He tasted like scotch, smoky and delicious. Added to his heady cologne, it made Claire's head spin slightly, never mind the glass after glass of delicious bubbling champagne they had been drinking all night. Claire nodded, swallowing the feeling of disappointment. His eyes burned into hers as he pressed another kiss to her lips then shooed her into the bathroom.

Pulling her hair up in its customary ponytail so it wouldn't get wet, she twisted the water off, and slipped into the bath with an audible groan. It felt _heavenly_. The water steamed around her, giving the room a slightly hazy look. She felt all her muscles relaxing in a way that was almost unfamiliar it had been so long. Dropping a wash cloth into the water, she pressed it against the side of her neck, letting the water drip down her skin. Sighing in pleasure, she leaned back against the side of the tub. Lulled by the heat and the state of relaxation of her body, she eventually drifted to sleep.

* * *

Hearing Claire step into the bath, Wesker retrieved his computer from the bedroom and took it out into the living room. He poured himself another glass of the expensive scotch, and settled in to do some more work, loosening the top two buttons of his shirt and rolling up his sleeves. For a while he was mildly distracted by the sound of Claire splashing about in the bath, but he tore his imagination from her delectable, wet skin and focused on the computer in front of him.

He was getting fewer reports of the illness that had broken out in the regions of the world. Tricell's vaccine must be doing its job then, he mused. There were still a few new outbreaks, but their number was far less than previously reported. Perusing his emails, he answered a few that were worth his time, managing to bark out orders to his subordinates through lettering. A few he threatened subtly, a few openly. He was a dangerous man and they needed to be kept in their places. After placing a few short, terse phone calls, he swallowed the last of his drink and turned his mind back to his research.

A few hours later, around three in the morning, he realized he hadn't heard Claire leave the bathroom. Frowning, he set his computer aside and stalked into the bathroom. Quirking his eyebrow, he noticed that she had fallen asleep in the water, a wash cloth clutched loosely in her hand. His eyes slid from her beautiful face, down the pale column of her throat to her delicate collarbones then slipped beneath the water. He admired the way her breasts came to such perfect, dusky peaks, her flat stomach. Her hips flared provocatively, her legs long and shapely and he knew just how perfectly they fit around his waist. Kneeling down, he brushed he ponytail aside, planting a kiss beneath her ear, murmuring, "Claire, wake up."

She shivered when she felt his lips on her skin, startling her awake. "Albert. What…?" she began questioningly, then realized where she was. The originally hot water was now cool and tepid. Wrinkling her nose, she stood to get out of the water. Wesker handed her a towel, smirking down at her as he wrapped her within it.

"Enjoy your bath, did you?" he asked, stepping back to let her towel herself dry.

She wrapped the towel around herself as she yawned. Nodding, she smiled up at him. "It could have been more enjoyable, but someone has to keep office hours 'round the clock," she teased, flicking water at him as she drained the bathtub.

"Duty calls," he said, following her out of the bathroom. He tried not to stare as she dropped the towel unceremoniously on the floor and crawled between the silky sheets of their bed.

Claire looked up at him, a slightly hopeful look on her face. "I know you have work to do, but could you sit in here with me? Like you did that time you pulled me out of the shower?" She sounded timid.

Wesker stared at her for a moment, then nodded. He left and returned a few moments later with his computer. Settling himself next to her on the bed, he let her get comfortable, pressing her naked form against his leg, her arm draped across his stomach. Reaching down, he threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling out her hair tie. He worked his fingers through the silken mass, spreading it across the pillows. Smiling as she nuzzled against him, he pulled his computer into his lap, working once more. Claire was lulled into sleep once again by the tapping of keys and the seductive smell of the man she was wrapped around.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25 New Friends

In the small hours of the morning, the sun just peeking over the horizon, Wesker had set aside his computer, unable to fight the drag of sleep on his eyelids any longer. He had slowly removed his shirt so as not to wake Claire, then slouched down into the bed, drawing her into his hot embrace. One arm pillowed her head, the other wrapped around her waist, hand splayed across her bare back, holding her to him. His lips were pressed to her forehead, legs tangled with her smooth, naked ones. She had sighed happily, snuggling closer to his heat, her own lips pressed against his collarbone.

Wesker had fallen asleep with a smile on his face.

When Claire had woken, she smiled when she felt herself confined within Wesker's searing grasp. She nuzzled closer to his chest, her lips brushing against his bare skin. Slipping her arm around his waist, she scattered light kisses across his collar bone, her nails lightly scratching at his back. She felt a rumble of a sleepy growl deep in his chest, though he didn't wake. Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, she rolled over onto her back, dragging his sleeping form with her.

His head was pillowed between her breasts, his leg thrown over hers. Slipping her fingers through his hair, she marveled at how soft his hair really was. He didn't use any sort of hair product to confine his hair; it had been combed back like that for so long that it did it naturally now. It was like rough silk through her fingers. The hand that wasn't stroking his hair was idly tracing designs on his shoulder blade. His breath was hot against her skin as he breathed shallowly with sleep. Lulled by his steady breathing and the hot, heaviness of his body pressed against her, she soon fell asleep again, her hand still tangled in his golden hair.

When she awoke again, she was distinctly cold. Wesker's hot skin was no longer pressed against her. Frowning, she rolled over and focused her sleep-heavy ears. Instantly, she heard the water for the shower running. Stretching with a squeak, she rolled out of bed, tangling herself with the sheet as she tripped through the bathroom door, landing heavily against the wall.

A curious expression on his face, Wesker poked his head out of the shower. He frowned when he saw Claire leaning against the wall, ripping at the sheet swathed around her lower limbs. "What exactly are you doing?" he questioned her, amusement coloring his voice. He leaned against the shower door, watching her, his arms crossed over his chest.

As he watched, she ripped the sheet from her legs, balled it up and hurled it back at the bed, giving it a baleful glare. "Stupid sheet," she muttered, turning back to face Wesker, her face glowing.

He chuckled, standing back to let her enter the shower with him. "Good morning to you too, my dear."

Claire tried to look angry but failed when she looked up and met golden eyes and a gorgeous smirk. His arms were still crossed over his chest, his muscles bunching and glistening in the falling water. She smiled slowly. Damn, but he was gorgeous. "Good morning," she murmured, her eyes raking over his form unabashedly, biting her lip.

Wesker caught her jaw in his hand, gently turning her to face him, pulling her face up to meet his. "I'm the only one who gets to bite that lip," he whispered, and did just that. His free arm went around her, pulling her flush to him. Claire groaned softly as he gently bit down on her lip, pulling it out slightly. Her hands reached up to tug at his hair, dragging him closer.

"Albert," she whispered when his lips trailed down her neck. "Don't you have a meeting today?" She gasped when his hand skimmed down between them, then slipped between her trembling thighs. His fingers traced through her hot, moist heat, gently flicking the nub buried there. Claire's knees shook as a finger slipped into her hot depths. Her eyes flew wide, unseeing, as his thumb pressed against that delicious bundle of nerves.

"I have time, never fear," he purred between kisses, working his thumb against her in languid, slow circles. He could feel her heart racing against his chest as leaned against him. He grinned down at her wickedly when he saw the lost and confused look on her face. Pressing her against the cold wall of the shower, he quickened his thumb, adding another finger within her heart. She moaned his name, her hands clutching frantically in his hair. Closer and closer, higher and higher she went beneath the onslaught of his clever fingers and teasing lips. Gently, he bit down on one of her nipples, a wicked gleam in his eye.

Then she was there with a long, drawn out cry that started as his name and finished in a high pitched keen. Her eyes were wide, wiped blank from the incredible orgasm she'd just experienced. Wesker caught her in his arms as her knees gave out, cradling her to his chest. Feeling very smug, he pressed a loving kiss to her forehead. He could feel the tremors shaking through her body still, stroking his already incredible ego. Lifting her chin so he could look into her dazed eyes, he smirked. "I told you it was a good morning."

Claire could only nod weakly as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss on her parted lips. Her knees somewhat stronger, she pushed at him slightly so she could stand. When she was certain she could, she stepped back into the shower letting the water pour down over her head. Chuckling darkly again, he pressed a kiss to her cheek and stepped out of the shower, his powerful scent lingering behind in the steamy air. She groaned quietly to herself, shaking herself out of her sexual stupor. Why did that man have to be so goddamn good at everything he did? Ugh.

Finishing her shower hastily, she stepped out, wrapping a towel around her body, another around her wet hair. Stepping into the bedroom, she heard his voice coming from the living. She assumed he was on the phone and shrugged mentally. Spying his dress shirt from the night before, she slipped it on, buttoning two of the buttons to keep it closed, then flipped her hair over to towel it dry. Tossing the towels back into the bathroom, she stepped into the living room, combing her fingers through her wet and tangled locks.

Wesker's eyes flared when they landed on her form. He paused for a moment in his speech, then muttered, "Just get it done." He snapped his phone shut and deposited it back into his pocket. Smirking, Claire sauntered up to him, hooking a finger in the buttons of his navy dress shirt. His hands came to her shoulders, staring down at her with golden eyes.

"You do realize I have a meeting soon but I suppose this is why you keep distracting me," he purred, cradling her face in his hands. He pressed a kiss to her lips.

"I need a reason for you to keep coming back," she giggled, wiggling her finger beneath his shirt, the other trailing oh so slowly up his thigh, across the semi-hard bulge in his trousers and pulled his shirt from the waistband, her nails flicking against his skin deliciously. Slipping her hand beneath, she splayed her hand against his skin, running her nails down his side gently.

Wesker groaned quietly, burying his face in her hair. "You will never be rid of me. I'm buried too deep beneath your skin, in your mind, in your heart. Just as you are to me." He caught her hand and pulled it from under his clothing, pressing a kiss to her fingertips, his eyes blazing. "Dear heart, I don't have time for this right now, as much as I would like to."

Claire smirked up at him. "I know. I'm just reminding you," she said, stepping back to let him tuck his shirt in once again. She handed him the little white case that held a new pair of contacts within it, her fingers brushing his. He grasped her wrist and pulled her to him, hard. He slanted his lips over her in a bruising kiss that made her knees weak again. His tongue invaded her mouth, silently promising her his retribution once he returned that evening. Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him, his scent lingering in the empty room behind him, silver briefcase in tow.

She sagged to the floor. Somehow he always managed to turn things around. She wanted to tease him, to make him burn for her in the absence of the day, but he managed to reduce her to a puddle on the floor with a kiss. _Damn that man_.

With a sigh, she dropped to the floor, lying sprawled in the thick white carpet. She had an entire day to do nothing. Wesker had informed her that she was not required to attend this meeting, that she would find it quite dull. She readily agreed. But not that she had neglected to go, she had no idea what to do with herself until the late evening. Rolling over onto her stomach, she kicked her feet in the air. Her eyes caught on her purple backpack that held her computer and notebooks within it.

Getting to her feet, she picked it up and made herself comfortable on the couch, settling the machine on her lap. Opening it slowly, she stared at the blank screen, wondering what she was even going to do on the computer. She didn't have anyone to send an email to, her family gone, and Chris was dead. She was sure he had told Jill about what had happened and was terrified of her reaction, therefore she wasn't emailing her. Not really having any other close friends, she decided to check her email anyway. Maybe someone had sent her one.

The page loaded displaying one new email. From a website she had bought her motorcycle parts from. _They really don't care_, she thought. Fighting back bitter tears, she closed the lid on the computer, throwing it on the couch beside her. She slumped down, arms crossed and glared across the room out over the city.

_Whatever. I'll go find something to do. There's a pool, right?_ Making up her mind, she got up and went back to the bedroom, dumping out their duffle bag onto the bed. Wesker's neat stack of black clothes got tossed onto the bed, hers yanked out to join them. She found her bikini stashed in the bottom, rolled up in a corner. When she'd found out they were staying in a hotel, she hoped she could go swimming. She went swimming every day and it was something she could do mindlessly and still stay in shape to compete with Wesker.

Shrugging out of his shirt, she tossed it on the bed and shimmied into the scarlet bikini, adjusting the strings to be comfortable. She braided her hair down her back, then slipped Wesker's shirt back on. Having only black combat boots and the gold strappy heels from the night before to choose from, she chose the heels, as Natalia Orlevsky would have done. Claire Redfield would have gone with the boots. Obviously.

After poking new contacts into her eyes, she grabbed a towel from the bathroom and the fancy new tablet phone Wesker had given her from the front pocket of her backpack. Buckling the strappy heels to her feet, she slipped the room key into the pocket of her shirt and stepped out the doors and into the lobby.

When she reached the lobby, she found the pool by the front desk, through a glass door. It was an outdoor pool and it was surrounded by fancy square hedges tall than Claire. There were lounge chairs lining the sides of the stone pool, few of which were occupied. She did however see a very petite and Indian looking woman wearing a gorgeous fuchsia sarong lying in one of them. It was Nisha, the wife of the Chairman from Gilead Engineering.

She spotted Claire and waved her over, smiling. "Hello, Natalia. I did not know we were staying in the same hotel as you and Erik. How wonderful to see you again!" She stood up and clasped Claire's hand in both of hers.

Suddenly embarrassed to be wearing Wesker's shirt, she flushed and muttered, "Er, nice to see you too, Nisha."

Nisha smiled broadly, indicating that Claire should join her. She sank down in the open chair next to her and smiled hesitantly. Nisha motioned a server over towards them and then asked Claire what she would like to drink.

"Uh, how about a bloody mary, please?" she said, not quite sure what she should order. It was relatively early and a bloody mary sounded like a good way to start a day of self-imposed boredom. Nisha told the man to make that two of them and to please charge it to her room. The man bowed and hurried away.

"Now relax. Enjoy the sunshine," she said, slipping a pair of designer sunglasses over her eyes and leaning back to soak up the sun. Smiling faintly, Claire spread her towel down on the chair and then slipped out of her shoes and shirt and lay back in the sun. Nisha was right, this was relaxing.

Once more in the black Bentley, Wesker stared idly out the window as they stopped at a traffic signal, his fingertips tapping on his briefcase. It was interesting what meeting people in a laid back setting revealed about themselves. Through emails, he had initially thought that GSB and Ferdinand Ambragino were going to be his choice, but after having Fraser Fahd, head of Gilead Engineering, he found to like Fahd better. So maybe they weren't staying in Austria. They were going to India, land of opulent palaces, mysterious tigers, and misty mountain jungles.

When the car pulled up outside a tall, modern glass tower, he stepped out, blinking sunglasses-less in the sunlight. Quickly he crossed into a small courtyard complete with potted trees and into the automatic glass doors. As he approached the front desk, the receptionist look up, and started visibly. "Mister Orlevsky? The meeting is being held on the twelfth floor. The elevators are to you right." Wesker nodded, adjusting his course to step towards the lifts.

As he was stepping through the door, a voice rang out behind him. "Hold the door please!" Turning, Wesker found that he was being rapidly approached by Fraser Fahd himself. Upon recognizing Wesker, Fahd smiled. "Mister Orlevsky! How wonderful to see you again. I'm glad that you could make it to the meeting today." He stepped in beside Wesker, adjusting his tie. "I was wondering if we might have a word in private." The doors slid shut and the elevator ascended.

Wesker eyed him curiously. "May I inquire as to why?"

Fahd looked him in the eye. "I want you to work for me," he said without preamble.

Wesker was silent for a moment. "And why is that?"

"I knew a man named James Marcus. I believe he had two young assistants that took over his research when he –_ahem_- passed away, did he not?" Fahd cleared his throat, then went on. "I believe that one of them, one William Birkin succumbed to a virus, mutated, and was destroyed in Raccoon City. As for the other, I know he wore sunglasses and was a secret agent who also worked in the Raccoon City Police Department, in the Special Tactics and Rescue Services department, correct?" He was silent, staring intently into Wesker's eyes. "I know that's you, Albert Wesker," he said quietly.

Wesker's eyes blazed though he said nothing. Then he smirked, his face characteristically cold. "I see some men's eyes are sharper than others. Even the rumor of my death wasn't enough to deter you. Congratulations," he murmured, his eyes flashing.

Fahd smirked back at him then sobered. "I meant what I said. I want you to come work for me. I believe a man needs a second chance to redeem himself in the world and why not do something you love? When I heard what happened to Umbrella, I kept my eyes and ears open for a rumor of you. I knew you were too crafty to have fallen victim of your own creation."

"Indeed." Wesker crossed his arms, his briefcase on the floor at his feet. He smirked again, eyeing the light flashing on the eleventh floor. "Perhaps I will, but for now, let us attend this afternoon's conference before we negotiate." His smile was dangerous and cold.

"Of course." Fahd's smile was just as dangerous, his eyes flashing in challenge. Perhaps Wesker had found a worthy opponent at last.

As the door slid smoothly open, Wesker indicated for Fahd to proceed him and reached down to pick up his briefcase, then stepped out, following him down the hall and opening a door on the left. The door opened into a large conference room, refreshments like coffee, tea and water were on a small table to one side. He made towards the small table and poured himself a cup of black coffee. As it flowed over his taste buds, he was not surprised to find that it was an expensive brand of coffee from some exotic island.

Finding a chair that was unoccupied was easy as most of the people who were there, were milling about, introducing themselves and carrying on hushed conversations. He raised his eyebrow when Fahd slid into the seat next to him, clutching a cup of tea.

"So our wives seemed to get along well, did they not?" he asked, sipping his tea, his eyes roaming around the room. Wesker said nothing, his own eyes carefully studying the man next to him in his peripheral vision. "If you have no previous engagements this evening, perhaps we may take our beautiful wives to dinner? Say around nine this evening at this little place I know that isn't too far from the hotel, yes?"

Wesker was silent still, churning over the offer in his head. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and tapped a quick message, pressed send, then pocketed the device once again. He turned to meet Fahd's eyes, a small smirk on his face. "Perhaps."

Claire was startled out of her deep state of relaxation by her phone chiming loudly. She wrapped her hand around it, frantically searching for a button to silence it as it kept making noises. Finally she hit something and it fell silent in her hand. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she unlocked the screen to find that she had a text message. The message was from _A.W._ She knew instantly who it was. Her heart pounding, she opened the message.

_Dear heart. Dinner this evening at nine with Fraser Fahd and his wife? A.W._

Claire stared at the phone for a moment. Albert Wesker had just sent her text message and had asked her if she wanted to go to dinner with another couple. Gulping, she tentatively typed back.

_Did the Almighty Albert Wesker just send me a text message?!_

Smirking, she went through the settings and set the phone to vibrate. No more scaring the crap out of her when she got messages. She had just settled back into a comfortable position, her eyes closed, when the phone vibrated under her fingertips again.

_Answer the question. A.W._

God, even demanding in a text message. Jerk. She could almost feel the cold stare that went with it.

_Why do you keep asking me to go all these places and I never have anything suitable to wear?! I suppose it's somewhere fancy and nice, isn't it?_

She frowned, making a face at her phone as she pressed the send button.

"Everything alright?" Nisha asked, noting the look on Claire's face. She lifted her sunglasses to see her clearer.

Claire rolled her eyes. "Erik keeps bringing me to all these wonderful places but I never have what I need to wear." Nisha eyed her questioningly. Claire sighed. "Apparently our men are taking us out to dinner tonight, but I have nothing to wear! Ugh!" She pursed her lips, leaning back against the lounge chair, closing her eyes. Her phone buzzed again and she glaringly snatched it up.

_Did I not say I would take care of you, my lady? Look in the closet again. A.W._

"Oh, never mind," Claire said faintly, remembering what had happened last time he had said those words. She had ended up with a gorgeous new emerald and diamond jewelry set. Nisha smiled knowingly and laid back against the chair, her sunglasses perched perfectly on her nose. Smiling shyly, Claire typed back.

_Thank you, Albert. I mean it…_

Claire smiled faintly, pressing the phone to her chest. Nisha raised her eyebrow at her. "Did it all work out then?" she asked, absently wiping her sunglasses off on her sarong. Slipping them back on, she rolled over onto her stomach. "What time is dinner tonight?"

"Nine apparently, and yeah, everything worked out," Claire said with a grin, settling back against the chair, feeling slightly smug. Her phone vibrated once more. She was glad that Nisha was easy to get along with. She needed a friend who wasn't a power-thirsty, arrogant, seductive tyrant.

_Anything for you, dear heart. A.W._

The meeting wore on for hours, Wesker absently staring out the windows behind the man who was currently speaking. He had made his decision partway through the meeting, regardless of what any of the other companies offered. Gilead Engineering was going to be his new niche.

Finally the man stopped talking and the meeting came to a close. Stretching slightly, he grasped his briefcase and started towards the door, ahead of the thronging masses behind him. The doors for the elevator slid smoothly close, encasing him in metal alone. Moments later, he was exiting the lobby and once more sliding into the backseat of a black Bentley.

When he entered the suite, he frowned to find that Claire was not within the room. Dropping his briefcase next to the couch, he strode through the bedroom, confirming his findings. She had been there earlier judging by the wet swim attire in the bathroom and the fact that his shirt was damp with chlorinated water. The bathroom was still moist from her shower.

Then he spied a note with her looping handwriting on it beneath her gun on the nightstand. As he read it, a dark grin slowly appeared on his face.

_My dearest Erik,_

_ My new friend Nisha and I have decided to start without you boys and are currently in the bar downstairs, awaiting our men. Feel free to come collect us once you've returned from your business meeting._

_ Yours always._

_ Natalia_

Dressed in a short chiffon dress that swept playfully around her knees, her back bare and the neckline plunging, she leaned against the bar with Nisha who was dressed in a peacock blue and silver sari, though this one not quite as fancy as the one she had worn the night before. Claire was wearing black stiletto heels, feeling tippy anyway but they were both sipping on some pink drink that had fruit in it and it was their third one each. Needless to say, they were giggly at the very least.

Claire felt the heat of his hand trail down her back. She shivered, her eyes falling briefly shut. "Al-Erik," she caught herself, her eyes flashing open again. Reaching back, she stroked her hand down the side of his face, her nails scuffing delicately against his skin. One arm snaked around her waist, the other holding her hand so he could press a kiss to her palm.

"Hello, my lady," he murmured against her ear. "Enjoying yourself I see."

Claire nodded, smiling, turning around to look up at him. She was still disappointed that he was wearing contacts, but then again, so was she. Reaching up, she placed a lingering kiss on his lips. His smile was almost dangerous. Holding her possessively in the crook of his arm, he turned towards Nisha to find her in her own lip-lock with her husband.

Staring admiringly down as his wife, Fraser said, "Are we not the two luckiest men in the world with such beautiful women?"

Wesker made no comment, but had to readily agree as he pressed another hot and hungry kiss to Claire's perfectly pouting lips.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26 Dinner

Claire's mouth gaped open as Wesker swept her though the door of the restaurant. Everything was dark, moody stone, small candles set in niches and in the center of every table, giving it a dark, mysterious, romantic feeling. Small waterfalls were interspersed around the establishment, filling the room with their soft music. Brightly colored flowers surrounded the fountains giving off soft but exotic smells. Her head was in a whirl between the three drinks she'd already consumed, the sight and smell of the restaurant, Wesker's hot hand pressed against her back as he guided her to their table. And, of course, the ever present, always intoxicating, spicy masculine scent of his skin.

Fraser pulled out a chair for Nisha, sweeping her into it. Wesker did the same for Claire, brushing a kiss across her knuckles as she did, a dark, silent promise hiding behind his abnormally blue eyes. He settled himself in the chair next to her, his arm creeping across the back of hers, surrounding her with his heady scent.

A waiter with thick French accent came and took their orders for drinks. Nisha was having a glass of dark red wine, Fraser a glass of expensive cognac, Wesker ordered an exotic scotch, and Claire had a dirty martini, catching Wesker's eye as she said dirty. She nearly purred when she saw the telltale gleam in his eye. His hand slid from the back of her chair to gently cup and caress the back of her neck. Raising her eyebrow slightly, she slipped her hand into his lap, tightening on his well-muscled thigh. She was rewarded with a slight twitch of his leg. She grinned devilishly.

Looking down at the menu, Claire was eternally grateful for it being in English. She didn't want to embarrass herself by not being able to read it. She also noticed that there were no prices. Generally, if you have to ask how much something is, you probably shouldn't be there and Claire knew it. Shaking her head slightly, she focused back on the food listed in front of her. Her eyes fell on a delicious sounding rib eye steak. She nearly drooled at the thought of the tender, juicy meat, cooked that perfect amount of rare. She knew exactly what she was getting.

"Finding anything you like, dear heart?" Wesker asked, leaning over to murmur into her ear. Claire smiled up at him and nodded. He chuckled, going back to his own menu. "Good."

When the waiter returned with their drinks, Fraser snapped his menu shut and set it on the table, beaming at Wesker and Claire. They placed their orders, then he clapped his hands and said, "Now, to business!"

Wesker smiled lazily, his hand still stroking Claire's neck and shoulder idly. He turned towards her. "I've had a change of plans, dear heart. It looks like we will be going to India instead of staying here in Austria. Mister Fahd has offered me the leading researcher position in his company and I feel that it is prudent that I accept his offer. However," he cleared his throat and continued. "We are no longer masquerading as Natalia and Erik. Like I promised, Claire and Albert." He pressed a kiss to her trembling hand as she stared at him.

"Ah, Claire, is it?" Fraser asked, smiling. "What a beautiful name. Indeed, I knew Mister Marcus personally and I knew of Mister Wesker here and knew he would be the perfect addiction to my company. There will be no need for you to hide who you truly are when you come to India."

Claire blinked a few times, looking from Fraser to Wesker. "O-okay," she still sounded confused. Her brows furrowed when she remembered that she had been in India once before. That was how she wound up getting infected and dropped into Wesker's lap, so to speak.

As if sensing her sudden trepidation, he leaned over, his lips next to her ear and whispered, "Nothing will happen to you, my lady. No one can touch you. That I promise." His breath was hot against her skin. Swallowing, she nodded, reaching for her martini glass. She sipped at it, idly fingering the olives on a fancy toothpick while she listened to Fraser and Wesker begin negotiating his employment.

Nisha engaged Claire in idle conversation, talking about places they had been and sights they had seen. Claire had to fight herself to stop from bringing up the horrors she had witnessed in her life, courtesy of the blonde god sitting next to her. He smirked down at her when he felt her eyes tracing over his face, his fingers tightening infinitesimally on the back of her neck.

"I realize what you are capable of and what you have done in the past. However, I feel that you could continue your work at GE, with fewer casualties. There are more safeguards in place now than there were at the Training Facility and in the Arklay Mansion," Fraser explained. Wesker said nothing, watching the amber liquid swirl in his glass. "My father told me to be wary of men like you, Mister Wesker, for their ambition will stop at nothing. I am looking forward to working with you."

Wesker cut him off. "Wesker is fine, there's no need for titles here."

Fraser nodded. "Of course. However, I would ask that you limit your human casualties and used lab animals until you've reached the stage of human testing. I have a few places in mind where that could be accomplished, but none of them are in India. I would like to see my country kept relatively free of bioterrorism."

Wesker smirked. "A patriotic man, then." Just as Fraser was opening his mouth to reply, the waiter appeared with their food on a large tray.

Claire nearly drooled again as the bloody piece of meat was placed in front of her, complete with perfectly cooked asparagus and wild mushroom risotto. As everyone's was placed in front of them, she eyed each plate curiously. Wesker had gotten a filet mignon, as bloody and rare as her own steak was, complete with smoked feta mashed potatoes and asparagus. Nisha had a juicy, tender piece of ahi tuna, a mango salsa to go with it, and a fancy piece of crusty bread that looked delicious. Fraser had decided on a juicy rack of lamb, accompanied by fluffy looking mashed potatoes and glazed carrots. Everything smelled wonderful to Claire's sensitive nose.

As their meal progressed, Fraser ordered another round of drinks for everyone, toasting them once again to a new and fruitful friendship. Claire smiled as she clinked glasses with the couple, pleased to see Wesker at least looked like he was enjoying himself. Finishing the last dripping piece of meat on her plate, she patted her lips with her napkin and pushed her plate away. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a steak that delicious. Probably never, she mused. This is a five star restaurant anyway.

Finished with his own meal, Wesker pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his scotch. Claire slipped her hand back down to his thigh. This time, he gave her a dark, seductive look. She shivered at the silent promise it held. Biting her lip, she turned away, just to have him whisper in her ear.

"Remember what I told you about biting your lip, dear heart." His voice sounded husky and rough. She could feel the color rising in her face and slipped her hand up just a fraction of an inch higher on his leg and felt more than heard, the deep rumbling growl in his chest.

When they had all pushed their plates away in satisfaction, the men returned to business once again. They paused briefly when the waiter retrieved their empty dishes and asking if there was any dessert he could bring them. They shook their heads and finished their drinks, business concluded.

Standing, Claire leaned heavily against Wesker as she worked to get her ridiculously high heels beneath her. Grasping her hand, he led her from the restaurant and back to their hotel.

* * *

After bidding the Fraser's goodnight in the lobby, they had ascended to their own suite. Claire giggled a little as she stumbled, the alcohol coursing through her body making her jittery and bold. She caught herself against his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "Thank you," she murmured, still giggling. She swiped the remnants of the contacts from her eyes and threw them away.

"So Mr. Wesker, India then?" she giggled, turning to flop backwards over the arm of the couch, her dress riding up provocatively. Her body arched marvelously on the white leather as she stared at him, no longer caring of his answer. Sitting up, she pulled the pins out of her hair, letting it fall in a fiery silken cloud around her shoulders. Staring up at him with an almost innocent look on her face, she bit her lip when she saw his eyes glow, a small smile on her face. She knew he preferred her hair down and she knew that biting her lip was a definite way to get his attention.

Wesker yanked the tie from around his neck, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor, his jacket following. He blinked out his own contacts as his shoes were kicked off while he stalked towards her, pulling his belt from around his waist with a snap. The look on his face was predatory almost and it terrified and excited her to no end. He nipped the finger of his glove, pulling it off and dropping it to the floor, the other following suit, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. He watched her eyes darken as she watched him removing them.

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him, savagely beautiful, like an avenging god as he stalked towards her. One of his hands gripped her arm and yanked her up to him, the other plunging into her hair, wrapping the silky strands around his fingers as he kissed her fiercely. There was no gentleness in this kiss, only demand and lots of teeth and tongue.

Claire's hands frantically worked the buttons of his shirt, then her nails dug into his shoulder blades as it fell open. Wesker's hand slid to her hips, pressing her against his hard length. She mewled into his mouth as he ground his hips into hers. The hand in her hair was almost painful the way he gripped her to him, but she was too lost in the haze of pleasure to notice. Slowly, she raked her fingernails down his back making him groan into her mouth. Her thumbnail skating over his delicious hip bone, she grasped the button of his black pants, making short work of them. She loved the way he looked with his pants hanging from his lean hips, his shirt unbuttoned and free, his eyes blazing down at her.

Just then, a knock came at their door. Claire's eyes flew open as she gasped, stepping back. Wesker stared down at her with an unreadable expression on his face, his breathing uneven. The knock came again. Straightening her dress, Claire scrambled towards the door, leaving Wesker to stare after her in irritation at the interruption.

When she opened the door, she was surprised to find a man holding a silver platter with a matching dome covering it. "Compliments of a Missus Fraser, ma'am," he said holding it out to her. Her brows furrowed in confusion, she thanked the man and returned to the suite, shutting the door behind her with a snap.

She placed the tray on the table in the kitchen and was surprised as to what she found within. There was a small pot of liquid chocolate surrounded with plump strawberries, chunks of apple and pineapple, small cubes of a velvety pound cake and small sticks of biscotti. A small note in slanted, feminine writing was folded neatly in an envelope addressed to her.

_Miss Claire,_

_ Enjoy this with my compliments, my dear friend. Enjoy your evening._

_ ~Nisha_

Claire stared down at the note then set it aside, picking up a juicy strawberry and dipping it in the chocolate. As she brought her hand to her mouth, Wesker's hand caught her wrist and directed it towards his mouth. "Hey! That was…" she trailed off, her eyes focused on his mouth. His lips brushed her fingertips as he bit down on the chocolaty fruit. The look on his face made Claire forget how to breathe. His eyes were boring into hers with dark intensity. Still grasping her hand, he slowly licked the smudge of chocolate from one of her fingers, his teeth nipping her skin gently. She nearly groaned out loud.

Reaching around behind her, he yanked on one of the strings holding the halter top of her dress up, letting it slither down her skin and pool around her hips. She gasped as he filled his hands with her breasts, pressing her back against the table. He paused, lifter her to sit on the edge of the table, pushing the tray over to the side. Pressing between her thighs, he lowered his face to her breasts again, tasting and teasing, nipping her flesh with his teeth and soothing it with a flick of his tongue.

Claire leaned back on one elbow, the other hand twining in his hair, pressing him closer. Her head fell back as his teeth scraped over a nipple, causing her to moan softly. "You know I'm not a good man," he growled, laving his tongue over the other. Her fingers tightened in his hair as her hips bucked against him. "But I will always protect you and give you everything you need. You are _mine_," he rumbled against her skin. His hand slipped down between them and ripped the dress away from her body, leaving her in only those ridiculously high heels. She started to protest the ruining of her dress when he muttered, "If you liked it that well, I'll just buy you another damnable dress." He smirked when he saw her lack of undergarments. "Did you have plans for this evening, dear heart?" he asked wickedly.

Claire could only nod once as his bare fingertips traced small circles on the inside of her trembling thigh. His thumb brushed against her soft folds every so often causing her to shudder against him. Reaching behind her again, this time he grasped the pot of warm chocolate, dipping his finger into it and spreading a small amount across her collarbone. Instantly, his tongue followed. Her eyes stared unseeingly over his shoulder as she was drowning in passion. Warm stickiness covered one nipple, then the other, only to be licked and sucked away by his hot mouth. Small breathy moans and gasps escaped her lips as he painted more chocolate on his skin only to lick her clean once more.

Suddenly quite irritated, she shoved Wesker off. She balanced unsteadily on her feet for a moment then yanked his shirt from his shoulders, throwing it to the floor with her ruined dress. "Bedroom. Now," she breathed, grabbing the pot of chocolate and pointing angrily at the door.

Wesker laughed out loud at the intensely turned on and irate look in her face and padded into the bedroom, stripping his pants and socks off as he went. He stood next to the bed as she slammed the door shut and kicked her shoes off, finally. As she brushed past him, she shoved him down on the bed. He looked up at her with a smirk on his face. He had never seen this side of Claire before and he was quite sure he liked it. She was domineering and took what she wanted.

Claire straddled his hips, feeling his throbbing shaft pressed against her behind, as she trailed a syrupy finger down the side of his neck, over a nipple, the sensitive crease of his hip where his pulse hammered. Not only was it her tongue that retraced the chocolate, but her teeth as well. She nipped at him, scraping her teeth over his skin with reckless abandon. He groaned, his hands tight on her waist, as her wetness brushed the tip of him. She ignored him.

Her lips closed over a nipple as her fingernails scratched down his stomach gently. Slowly, her lips moved lower, her tongue tracing the lines of muscles in his abdomen. She nipped at his hip bone, her tongue soothing the skin after. A finger traced up his thigh, over his heavy testicles and up the underside of his throbbing shaft. He groaned again when her hand closed around him, gripping him tightly.

"Claire," he growled, his hand once again gripping a fistful of her silken hair. Then her mouth closed over the tip, her tongue flicking out to taste him. Wesker couldn't help the involuntary thrust of his hips when he felt her teeth every so delicately scrape against him. She was driving him wild. "Enough!"

With one swift motion, he flipped her over onto her back and thrust between her thighs with a groan. Her hands clenched on his biceps, her fingernails digging into his skin. She felt so hot and tight as he thrust into her, staring down at her face twisted in passion.

"Albert!" she half screamed as he rotated his hips in a circle, grinding on that sweet place deep within her. He laughed in the darkness. Watching her writhe beneath him, he did it again and again, making her nearly hysterical with pleasure. Fisting a hand in her hair again, he yanked her head back to bite at her throat as he slowed his pace. Long, slow, languorous strokes deep within her, making her press against him. "Faster! Please!" she wailed, unable to make him move.

"You were teasing me, weren't you?" he asked darkly, his lips closing over her taut nipple again. "There in the restaurant, with your hand in my lap." Claire shivered from the intensity of his words, unable to reply. He thrust into her, deeply. Once. Then slowly drew back until his head was pushing against her slippery folds again. "What goes around, comes around, my dear," he whispered, burying himself inside her once again.

Claire screamed with pleasure. She was so close! So incredibly close that she was nearly frantic. "Please!" she begged, tilting her hips up towards his, trying to bring him closer. "Albert!" She was pleading with him.

Grinning darkly, he threw one of her ankles over his shoulder, ruthlessly exposing her. He pulled her face back and slanted a deep, throbbing kiss over her lips, his velvety tongue sliding against hers. Then he plunged inside her, thrusting powerfully. He swallowed her screams and moans of pleasure as he felt her tense around him, gripping him tightly within those hot, wet depths. She shook from the intensity of her orgasm, her muscles fluttering around him.

"Ah! Claire!" he roared as he felt himself explode within her.

* * *

_Dear heart, what have you done to me?_ Wesker marveled as he lay there with her form draped exhaustedly across his naked body. He trailed a hand through her hair, the other entwined with hers in the sheets. Staring up at the ceiling, he contemplated the changes she had brought into his life. The emotions he had thought were tamped down beneath his icy exterior were suddenly brought into the light. She burned him with her colorful intensity. In the austere whiteness of the suite, her shimmering ruby hair and violently green eyes were almost too painful to look at. She nearly glowed with color in the whiteness. The paleness of her skin just brought the color out that much more.

She was beautiful, he couldn't deny that. Strong and fast like him, and he knew that she loved him. She had told him as much. But her words weren't necessary, although he had like the way they had sounded coming from her sweet lips. He could see in the way she looked at him, the subtle brushes of their skin, the way she quickened at his touches that she was his completely. There was nothing held back anymore, and didn't that just make him feel powerful.

He looked down at her as she shifted in her sleep, her arms wrapping around his waist, nuzzling closer to his hot skin. Smiling gently, he slid his leg over hers, encompassing her completely. His arms came around her, cradling her to his chest as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

He loved her as much as he hated her, for making him feel again. Life was simpler when there weren't emotions to get in the way. There was no way to penetrate his icy, steely façade before. Now there were giant, yawning cracks, threatening to swallow him. He had nearly destroyed the entire Tricell company when Excella had kidnapped Claire. Only once she was safe and in his arms again did he decide that he had better things to do with his time, sending the email that had left the company in Laura Muriel's hands. He was sure there were others out there that would love to get a piece of him, Claire presenting the perfect target.

Snarling silent, he pulled her closer. He had taught her as best he could to prevent that from happening. She was nearly his equal on every level now. He recalled the previous weeks on the island as he taught her the finer points of fighting one on one. The two times she had bested him, her teeth grazing the taut cord from his neck to his shoulder, nearly making him convulse, her soft lips pressing against his hot skin.

Perhaps she would agree to be his forever.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27 Music

Claire could feel the rumble deep in his chest as he spoke to someone. Making a sleepy noise, she realized that she was still sprawled across his naked form, and kissed his chest. Looking up, she saw that he was on the phone with someone, an angry scowl pasted on his face. Wesker looked down at her, trailing his hand through her disheveled hair.

"You have your orders," he snapped into the phone, his eyes following his fingers through her hair. She snuggled closer, not wanting to interrupt his call. He was quiet, listening to the person on the other end, then his lip curled in a snarl, his eyes blazing. "I don't care how difficult or ridiculous it is going to be. You work for me. Since when do you question my orders? Get. It. Done." He snapped the phone closed and tossed it onto the nightstand, growling angrily.

Claire reached up to stroke his face hesitantly, unsure of his mood. He stiffened for a moment and looked as if he were going to toss her out of bed, but then he relaxed, leaning into her soft touch, his eyes closed. Smiling slightly, she pulled herself up higher so she could press a kiss to his lips softly. She felt his hands grip her thigh and pull her across his lap, hands clenched loosely on her hips as he leaned back against the pillows. Over and over, she pressed soft kisses to his hot lips, feeling the tension and anger slowly melting out of him. Her thumb traced his cheekbone as she looked into his eyes and was glad to see they were no longer crimson.

"Better?" she whispered, smiling softly at him.

He nodded, pulling her down for more kisses, a slight smirk on his face. Almost in awe of the way she tempered his anger, at how she gentled the beast within him, he drew her to him. His hands trailed up her back, pulling her against him. Claire was surprised and just a tiny bit disappointed that he wasn't trying to seduce her this morning. He seemed content enough to hold her in his arms and press tender, slow kisses to her lips. Looking up at her with a peculiar look on his face, he stroked the backs of his fingertips over her cheek. "Beautiful," he murmured.

Claire blushed and ducked her head, but he gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. Staring into her eyes, he kissed her again, red burning into green. His hand traced her side, tickling her slightly. She stifled a giggle and wiggled out of his grasp, flopping onto the mattress beside him. Watching her hands skate up and down his muscular arm, his hand trapped between her knees, she asked quietly, "So India, is it?"

Wesker quirked an eyebrow at her soft, almost timid tone. "Is there a problem?" he asked, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. He heard her sigh before she answered.

"I was in India when I got infected in the first place." Her voice was low and she sounded confused. Wrapping her arms around his one, she snuggled closer, burying her face in his shoulder, his hand on her thighs.

Wesker rolled over to look at her, tilting her sad eyes up to meet his. "As long as you stand by my side, I won't let _anything_ happen to you, Claire. I promise," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "What happened with Excella was a mistake. One that will _never_ be repeated. _Nothing will touch you_."

Claire shivered with the intensity of his words, the way his eyes burned into hers. She knew she could believe his promise. In all the time she had known him and even when he was Chris's Captain, he never broke his word. Ever. He had always been an honest man, brutal sometimes, but always honest. That was why Chris had always looked up to him.

She nodded silently, still captivated by the golden glow in his burning eyes. Even after all this time, she still marveled at the intensity of them. She had seen the crimson of a blistering rage, the reddish orange of annoyance, the flat amber color of sickness and the rich gold of his affection for her. Perhaps his mercurial eyes were the reason he always wore sunglasses. Or perhaps to just intimidate people when he took them off. Snuggling up beneath his chin, she wrapped her arms around his chest, smiling when she felt his own arms cradle her to him.

Wesker's phone rang again. _Are you freaking kidding me?_ She thought disgustedly as Wesker reached over her to grab the offending device. As he lay back, he frowned when he recognized the caller. Instantly, Claire was gently pushed from his lap as slipped from the bed, into his black dress pants and stepped from the room as he answered the phone on the third ring.

She was beginning to hate that phone. It seemed like every time Claire tried to get comfortable on him, the damn thing would ruin the moment. She could just see the thunderous expression on Wesker's face as she smashed the thing on the floor. If looks could melt bones, she decided with a shiver. Rolling her eyes, she flipped over onto her stomach and snuggled up with Wesker's pillow, letting her eyes slowly drift closed again.

* * *

Infuriating man.

Fraser Fahd had called him while he had been laying so comfortably in bed with Claire. Wesker, thinking the man was calling about the job, something important, was only calling to chat about the other people at the conference. Growing more irritated by the minute, he asked the man if he had a point.

"Just calling to check in, friend. Reminding you and Miss Claire that the plane leaves at eight o'clock this evening. That is all," Fraser had said, sounding like the happiest man in the world.

Wesker nearly pulverized his phone in his hand.

After bidding his new superior a terse good day, he turned to stalk back into the bedroom only to find Claire sleeping so peacefully, clutching his pillow in the mid-morning light. The sheet was slung off the end of the bed from his hasty exit, her naked form bathed in bright sunlight. Never had she looked more ethereal, more like a goddess than she did in that moment. He stared, committing the image to memory to recall while he wrote reports and did his experiments. The way her hair blazed in the sunlight, the shadowed valleys and dips of her luscious curves, the sun shining brightly down her spine.

Unable to bring himself to disturb her, he stepped back into the living room to find their clothes scattered around the room. As he scooped up the remains of her black dress, his eyes flashed at the memory of her long, long legs in the short skirt, her dainty feet in those black stilettos, the way her hair curled riotously down her back. His eyes gleamed as he clenched the rag in his fist.

Why did she affect him so profoundly? He didn't know but he exalted in the knowledge that she did. Ever the tight fist on his emotions, it felt good to lose control once in a while. But only for her. Never would another soul see what she saw. It terrified him and humbled him. She had fit herself neatly into the gaping hole in his soul, and while she couldn't fill it, she soothed it. She calmed the raging beast within in him somehow. Surely his goddess had tamed his monster's soul. Settling himself on the couch with his computer, he set to work once again, Claire's naked form seared into his brain for eternity.

* * *

She felt fuzzy and disoriented when she woke again, feeling like she had slept too long. Rolling over, her eyes took just a moment too long to focus on the clock on the nightstand, eventually telling her that it was nearly noon. Groaning, she rolled over and sitting up, rubbing the grit from her eyes. Shoving the pillows aside, she stood and stretched, feeling her bones realign with loud snaps and crunches. Stooping down, she scooped up Wesker's navy blue shirt from the night before, pressing it to her face and inhaling deeply. _My personal brand of crack_, she thought as she slipped it on, burying her nose in the collar for a moment and grinning before wandering into the living room.

She found him sitting in the living room, tapping away on his computer per usual. As she walked past him, she brushed her lips across the back of his neck, trailing her fingertips over his bare shoulders. She heard him shift to look at her as she walked towards the platter of fruit and cakes from the night before. Picking up a strawberry, she leaned back on the table to look at him, sucking on the delicious berry. She saw him raise an eyebrow in question as she enjoyed her fruit. When she reached back for another one, breaking eye contact, she found that she was pressed down on the top of the table with Wesker hovering over her, his lips crashing into hers.

How dare she stand there and look so innocent and oh so seductive in nothing but his, _his_, shirt, enjoying a strawberry all too thoroughly and staring him in the eye. It did things to him. He pressed her back against the table, stepping between her thighs, and slammed his lips to hers. She was startled but pleased as his reaction. He stretched her arms above her head and closed them over the edge of the table. "Don't move," he growled, nipping the side of her neck. She moaned hotly, her fingers clenching harder on the wood above her.

Claire shivered, starkly aware of the cold table pressing against her back and bare thighs, and the burning heat of the man searing through her shirt. Her breathing already labored and he had barely even touched her. Without bothering to unbutton the shirt, Wesker slipped his hand beneath the fabric to cup her breast, thumb whispering over her nipple in a way that made her burn. Gently, he scratched a nail over the sensitive bud, watching her body arch in response, a loud groan escaping her lips. She could feel his hardness already pressing against her, the long shirt between her skin and his trousers.

His other hand slipped up her thigh, dangerously close to exactly where she wanted, _needed_, it. Burying his face in her hair, he muttered, "Don't tease me, dear heart. Wearing nothing but my shirt, barely buttoned, do you know what that does to me?" His teeth scraped her throat, burning lips trailing after. "Then to see you tempting me with that strawberry… You taste exquisite," he said, then kissed her deeply; strawberries and Claire. _Delicious_. "However, as much as I would love to ravish you right here, right now, I have business to attend to."

Claire stared fuzzily up at him, barely comprehending his words. She blinked a few times, then swallowed. "Are you leaving?" she asked, not wanting to spend another day stuck here bored and alone. Nisha was wonderful company, but not quite the same as the man who had captured her heart and soul.

He tugged her to sit up, cupping her face in his hands. "Not today, dear heart." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "However, I do need to do my work so I'll ask you for no interruptions, is that clear?" he asked, looking her in the eye. She nodded, wrapping her hands around his wrists, her thumbs stroking his skin.

He kissed her softly, his lips lingering against hers, then he stepped back to let her slip off the table. She landed silently but swayed on her feet as the rush of his pleasure sped back up to reality. That man was an addiction. And there was no quitting this one. Shaking her head slightly, she slipped past him with a quick kiss, hearing him chuckle as she disappeared into the shower.

Wesker bit back a groan as he readjusted himself within his tightening pants. He had a feeling he could be buried beneath her skin a million different times, in a million different way and it still wouldn't be enough to sate the burning desire he felt for her. It was more than just her body; it was her kindness, her surrender to him, the way only she was allowed to touch him, to see his façade break down. It was the way her eyes danced and sparkled the rare times she actually laughed out loud.

Pulling his thoughts from his lady, he settled the computer across his knees once more, fingers flying nimbly over the keys, firmly ignoring the image of her naked body blazed into his skull. There was work that needed to be done before they left for India.

* * *

Slipping into a pair of her favorite jeans, she tugged a black t-shirt down over her head and shrugged on a black jean vest. Pulling her hair from her collar, she swept the wet, gleaming mass into a ponytail, not bothering to brush it. She looked around the bedroom, smiling faintly at the bedding thrown haphazardly off the end, pillows strewn across its surface. Digging the duffel bag out from under the bed where she has shoved it, she began picking up their clothing from around the room. Wesker's dark clothing were neatly folded then she folded hers to match, slipping them into the bag. Spying the green dress from the ball the other night, she packed that into the bag as well, unmindful of the winkles it might suffer. She picked up Wesker's dress shoes and her black stilettos and the gold, Grecian sandals and shoved them unceremoniously into the pocket on the bottom.

She opened the little black box that held her new emerald and diamond necklace, brushing her fingertips over the cool stones. Smiling again, she stepped into the living room to put the small jewelry box within her backpack. She had left it propped against the couch, which was now next to Wesker.

Moving quietly so as to not disturb him, she picked up the bag. She made to turn around to put it in the bedroom but he stopped her with a hand on her arm, his fire-gold eyes boring into hers. Slowly, he drew her down to press his lips to hers firmly. His hand curled around the back of her neck, pulling her down so she flopped onto the couch beside him, her backpack forgotten on the floor at her feet. Slowly, methodically, he pressed his lips to hers, burning her with the intensity. His heat seared the breath from her lungs. Then, as suddenly as he had pressed against her, he was gone, leaning back to look down at her, a small smirk on his face.

"What was that for?" she asked dreamily, resting her head against his shoulder. His hand came to settle on her thigh, tightening possessively. She wrapped her arms around his one, hugging it to her.

Wesker gave her a brain-melting smirk. "Because you're mine," he said simply, stating the fact coolly. Then he went back to typing on his computer. Claire didn't move and he didn't make her. As her eyes focused on the screen in front of him, she couldn't make it make sense. There were streams of data and numbers on the screen that made no sense to her. There were small pictures of what she assumed were tissue samples, but of what, she had no idea. Her eyes settled on his bare fingertips stroking the keys with firm precision. Never once did she see him use the delete key.

When he snapped he computer shut, she disengaged herself from him, once more picking up her backpack. He stood, placed his computer in his briefcase, and disappeared into the bedroom. Claire slipped the small velvety box she was still holding into the bottom of her backpack for safe keeping. When he returned, he was wearing a black dress shirt, sleeves rolled up in the way that made Claire want to drool, and he had put boots on, lacing them tightly to his feet. He had his gun strapped beneath his arm once again.

The hours rolled by slowly. Wesker went back to work, keys clicking as she lay on the couch beside him. Occasionally, his hand was slip around her ankle, caressing her skin with burning fingertips. She'd shiver with pleasure at his touch, he's smile that knowing smile at her, then return to his work. Idly, she flipped through a books she had found on one of the shelves, but she honestly couldn't remember what it was about. Rolling her eyes, she rolled off the couch and got to her feet. Dropping the nameless book onto the coffee table, she stepped towards the glass wall, looking down over the city.

Tiny people rushed by below her, their own lives so very different from hers. Live of people who had never seen the horrors she had, never had their life threatened, never felt the fear that turned your guts to water. They'd never had to watch friends die in agony as teeth ripped flesh from their bones. But their lives were mundane, boring, and monotonous. After everything, she doubted she could go back to having a normal life. What was normal anyway, besides boring? She doubted life with Wesker would ever be normal.

The cars moved below her looking much like the matchbox cars Chris had played with as a child. She remembered stealing one from his and the furious look on his face when he couldn't find it. It had been a black Aston Martin of some kind. She had stolen it because she like the way it look, all sleek and predatory looking. Now that she thought about it, much like the man sitting behind her. Smiling faintly, she thought the people looked like ants as they scurried about their lives.

As she stood framed in the window, the sun was beginning to set, painting the tops of the buildings with fire. Slowly, she trailed her hand down the glass as she made her way towards the piano. It had been a long time since she had played anything, not having time to sit and play idly, but there was always that one piece she had memorized. She sat down on the bench and slowly opened the lid, brushing the ivory keys with her fingertips. Placing her fingers on the keys, she began pressing them slowly, the suite filling with the haunting sound of her music. On and on she played, her eyes closed as she began to sway to the music. It was a classical piece, one of her favorites and it was a long song.

Wesker looked up when he heard the first notes of her playing. He hadn't know she could play. Closing his computer silently, he sat back and watched her play. The music washed over him in waves, the dark, haunting sound filling his ears. She was quite good, actually. Was there anything his dear heart couldn't do?

As she finished the piece, she looked up at him, hoping she hadn't disturbed his working too badly. She was surprised to see that he was reclined on the couch, hands behind his head, listing avidly. When she finished, he looked at her, a small smirk on his face.

"Dante's Sonata. The seven layers of hell. I didn't know you could play, dear heart," he drawled, standing and making his way towards her. He crossed his arms over his chest as he looked down at her. "Is there something you should be telling me?" he asked, a slight frown on his face.

Claire shook her head and shrugged, looking up at him. "It's just one of my favorite pieces is all," she said quietly, standing up from the bench.

He smirked down at her. "Perhaps there's a reason," he said, stroking his fingertips down the side of her face. She was disappointed that he had put his leathery gloves back on, but his touch still flamed that spark within her. He slipped past her and took up the vacant seat in front of the piano. Claire stared at him as his fingers began caressing the keys. The music he played was just as haunting, but faster and more intricate.

Her heart raced at the picture he presented. Golden man dressed in black, seated at the piano making beautiful and terrifying music, the sunset painting everything with its bloody glow. His eyes glowed with the sunlight as he focused on the keys in front of him. She listened, transfixed until she was finally met with silence at the end of the piece. Blinking rapidly, her eyes focused on him once more as he dropped the lid back down over the keys.

"That was incredible," she murmured as he stood up from the bench. He smirked down at her once again. He brushed a kiss across her cheek as he stepped past her towards the couch again.

"I thank you, but it is time we were leaving. Do you have everything?" he asked, pulling out his phone.

Claire went to the bedroom and strapped her own gun beneath her arm. One could never be too careful, especially where Wesker and pharmaceutical companies were involved. She glanced through the bathroom and bedroom. Noticing she had everything, she tugged her black boots on and slung the duffle bag over her shoulder. Her eyes lingered on the mussed bed, briefly replaying the hours they had spent within it, wrapped thoroughly around each other, the world outside the bedroom doors forgotten. A soft, melancholy smile slipped over her lips as she stepped from the room.

Wesker was on the phone again as she dropped the bag next to the couch. She went through her backpack to make sure she had truly gotten all of her belongings, then leaned on the back of the couch, watching his silhouette in the setting sun. His hand was on his hip, the other holding his phone to his ear, his sunglasses once more concealing his eyes. His long black coat swathed his figure, giving him a forbidding look as he turned towards her. He said nothing as he snapped the phone shut and slid it into his pocket.

"I'm ready if you are," Claire said, slipping a long black coat over her shoulders, effectively hiding the firearm strapped to her side. He nodded and moved to heft the bag over his own shoulder and helped Claire into her pink backpack. She knew she looked funny in the long black coat and sunglasses with a bright pink backpack slung over her shoulders, but she didn't care. It had gone with her everywhere and she wasn't going to stop now.

Gently, Wesker cradled her face in his hands as he brushed another bone-melting kiss over her lips. "To India, my dear," he murmured.

* * *

Once more, they were settled in the back of the ever black Bentley, making their way through the evening traffic towards the airport. When they arrived, there was a sleek white and green private jet waiting for them with the letters GE painted in blue on the tail. As they boarded the plane, Claire was surprised to see that Nisha and Fraser were already on board, seated together in the seats closest to the cockpit and the bathroom.

"Ah! Mister Wesker and Miss Claire! I'm so glad you made it," Fraser said, standing to shake Wesker's hand and to brush a kiss over Claire's. Wesker nodded towards the couple but said nothing.

"Thank you for letting us come with you, Mister Fahd," Claire said, eyeing Wesker as he sat down in the seat farthest from the cockpit. "We appreciate it."

Fraser laughed and said, "It is my pleasure. However, Nisha is not feeling well so I will be sitting with her this evening. If you need anything, please, do not hesitate to ask." He smiled at Claire then returned to his seat, stroking Nisha's hand. She smiled up at him then laid her head against his shoulder.

Claire turned to join Wesker in the back of the cabin, sinking into the seat beside him. He was staring out the window with a thunderous look on his face, his hand clenched so tight, she could see the leather straining. Frowning, she reached out and gently turned his face towards her, her heart in her throat. She was always frightened of his reaction when she touched him when he was this angry.

"Albert," she whispered, fingertips stroking along his firm jaw. "What's wrong?" She took her sunglasses off and tossed them into the seat across from her, staring up at him with those molten emerald eyes. He reached up and pressed her hand to his face, leaning into it, his eyes locked with hers through his sunglasses. Then he smiled a small, almost nonexistent smile. It was fleeting, but Claire saw the warmth in it.

"Nothing, dear heart," he murmured. "Nothing at all." He leaned forward and pressed a long, lingering kiss to her soft lips, then drew her in to his arms, cradling her against his chest. Smiling, Claire nuzzle into the folds of his coat, her own arms going around his waist.

_He may not be perfect,_ Claire thought. _But he's mine._


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28 Starting Over

The plane ride was long and relatively uneventful for them. Claire spent most of the flight ensconced in Wesker's arms, feeling safe and comfortable. While not sleepy in the least, she lazed there, her mind happily blank. Every so often, he would dip his head towards hers and press long, slow, delicious kisses to her pink lips, making her toes curl with pleasure, her hand clenching in his shirt beneath his coat. It was never more than a kiss, but it was still more than enough to make Claire feel needy and achy. She nuzzled deeper into his arms, inhaling deeply of his spicy, erotic scent, humming quietly with pleasure. It really didn't take much to make her happy.

They didn't speak to the Fahd's the entire time, Nisha having curled up against Fraser, her face pale and sweaty. He had his arms around her, holding her, much like Wesker was holding Claire. When the plane landed, Claire stretched the kinks out of her shoulders and neck from being pillowed against Wesker. Wesker stood, adjusting his shades, frowning slightly at Nisha's unwillingness to stand.

She was pale and sweaty and looked as if she were going to pass out. Fraser scooped her up into his arms and made for the stairs down to the black top. He turned to speak to them when he reached to bottom of the stairs. "Do not worry. She will be fine. If you get in the car there," he gestured with his elbow at the silver Escalade that was waiting. "They will take you to your new home. I shall take Nisha home and put her to bed." He smiled, then stepped into a different vehicle. He lay Nisha in the back seat and then got in beside her and the SUV drove off.

Claire frowned and stared after the vehicle. Wesker cleared his throat then gestured towards their own vehicle. "Shall we?" She shook her head then followed him, slipping into the back seat.

They drove for almost half an hour, through the city and out towards the open country. Claire was starting to get concerned when the road went from asphalt to dirt. She looked up at Wesker sharply, meeting his crimson eyes, a frown on his face. They turned down a private driveway and a rather large house stood there, looking almost like a small palace. The blue GE logo was tiled into the stone wall running down the length of the driveway, long, droopy willow trees shading the walls. Claire narrowed her eyes slightly. After having been kidnapped and imprisoned, she was leery of people in general. Never mind a long drive into the countryside in a country unknown to her and at five thirty in the morning.

The SUV pulled up beneath the portico and stopped. The driver got out and opened Claire's door for her, standing silently and unblinkingly behind it. Getting out, dragging her backpack with her, she glanced over her shoulder at Wesker. His face was hard, emotionless as he picked up their bag and made his way towards the door of the house. When he entered, he dropped the bag silently, his hand slipping beneath his coat to grasp the butt of his gun. The crunch of gravel in the driveway let them know that the Escalade was leaving. Claire stood in the doorway, her ears straining for any noise. Silently, Wesker conducted a sweep of the house, satisfied that all was clear. She let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding when he returned and nodded.

Slamming the door shut behind her, she marveled at the house. It was constructed to look like an Indian palace suite, although without the precious gemstones and rare metals. The walls were scalloped and arched, the walls and ceilings painted white. On the floor was a large rug, green vines over a white background. The paneling on the wall was a rich, dark mahogany.

Stepping into the house, she started to explore, surprised at how small it truly was. It was more than enough space for the both of them, but from the outside, the place looked absolutely palatial. She found two bedrooms, an office, an eat-in kitchen, two bathrooms, and the master suite all centered around a main living area. The master suite had its own bathroom which consisted of a giant round tub with jets, a large steam shower, and a fainting couch with cream and gold stripped upholstery. The floors and walls were made from the same dark stone, a skylight in the ceiling letting in light. The towels that were laid out were matching the cream and gold of the couch.

The bedroom was magnificent. The bedding was black with silver threads, making a very detailed medallion. The sheets were a silky black material, whispering over her skin when she touched it. The canopy of the bed was a cross of the same silky black material crossed above her head, each end fixed to a tall bedpost. A soft silvery light was placed in the middle, almost making the bed feel like a tent. She felt as if she were looking at a maharaja's bedroom, everything was so rich.

Dropping her backpack beside the bed, she pulled her gun from its holster and placed it in the nightstand drawer. She shrugged out of her coat on the way back into the living room. Wesker was already divested of his coat, his gun and sunglasses lying on his gloves as he sat in the living room, working already. Raising an eyebrow in irritation, she drug the duffel bag into the bedroom, dropping at the foot of the bed.

Drifting back out to the living room, she spied a metal spiral staircase that led up to a glass door. At the top, there was a glass door which opened out on a patio that had a breathtaking view of the mountains. Breathing deeply, she was glad to smell fresh air again. Recycled air on an airplane wasn't pleasant but it was still better than the gritty, toxic fumes of a big city, but nothing beat fresh, clean mountain air. There was a hint of rain on the air. There was a faint crackle of electricity in the air around her as well.

There was another door which led to a short hallway. There was only one door in the hall at the end which was made of steel, an electronic key card slot next to the door. Claire instantly knew where that led. Of course Wesker would have to have his own private lab. It made her curious if it was just a single lab, or if there was a whole hive of them beneath their feet like in Raccoon City. She shivered at the thought. She never wanted anything like that to happen again, but she knew better than to hope. The man she was in love with started the whole bioterrorism thing! She felt queasy at the thought.

Seeing him still on his computer when she returned to the living room, a wicked smile slowly crept across her lips, a gleam in her eye. She stepped up behind Wesker, pressing her lips to his neck, one hand slipping beneath the collar of his shirt to trace along his collar bones. His fingers stilled on the keyboard, waiting for her next move. One hand clutched a handful of his hair, pulling his head back so she could slant a kiss over his lips, making him groan quietly into her mouth, her hand slipping to the buttons on his shirt. Her tongue slid against his as she demanded he respond to her. His hand came up to tangle in her hair, pressing her closer. She nipped his lip, staring down into his fiery golden eyes, cradling his head in her hand. Her other hand had finally worked all the buttons free on his shirt, her fingers ghosting over his skin. Gently, she traced her nails over his side. She knew he wasn't ticklish, but it was one of his most sensitive areas, a small moan escaping his lips. He shoved his computer aside, then reached back and grasped the back of her shirt, yanking her over the back of the couch and into his lap.

His arms clamped around her like iron as she tried to wriggle into a comfortable position. Growling, he murmured, "Quit squirming." His hand stroked her face, then slipped down her neck shoving her vest to the floor. Her shirt clung to her body like a second skin, leaving very little to the imagination. Claire shoved his hands away from her and sat up, straddling his hips, running her fingers through his hair to pull him to her lips again. His fingers dove under her shirt, pushing it up and over her breasts, then trailing his hands back down, delighting in her silken skin, his thumbs brushing over her nipples. She shivered, pressing against him as she kissed him harder. Rolling her hips against him, he nearly groaned as she pressed against the growing bulge in his pants.

"Payback for the plane ride," she whispered in his ear, the tip of her tongue tracing the sensitive shell.

Wesker cocked his head at her quizzically. "I have no idea what you're talking about, dear heart," he said, sounding genuinely confused. He tugged aside the collar of her shirt, planting kisses down her shoulder.

Scraping her fingernails against his scalp, she groaned quietly. "If you had any idea what you do to me…" she trailed off, leaning back to give him more access to her skin. She shivered when she heard him chuckle darkly.

"What exactly do I do to you?" His voice was like dark chocolate; smooth, liquid, sinful. The voice of the devil himself. Then he was tossing her shirt aside; scattering burning kisses across the tops of her breasts, nipping at her collarbones. She sighed in pleasure, attempting to focus on the words she was trying to say.

"You drive me insane," she whispered, twisting her fingers in his hair again, staring into his eyes. Then she was kissing him roughly. "One touch of your lips and I'm a puddle on the floor. The way you say my name…" she trailed off as his hands guided her lips back to his. He clasped her to him, arms encircling her slim frame, lips devouring each other. "Albert…" she whispered, her eyes rolling back in her head as he kissed her neck yet again, his teeth scraping her skin.

A loud beep brought them both back to reality quite painfully as Wesker's computer alerted him to something. Stifling a groan, he lift Claire's shirt from over his computer where it had landed, handing it back to her. Rolling her eyes and glaring at the computer, she tugged her shirt back down, clambering from his lap. _If it's not one thing, it's always another, _she thought darkly, mentally giving the computer the finger.

Groaning softly to herself, she disappeared back out onto the balcony to watch the storm roll down from the mountains. She settled into a chaise lounge chair, curling her legs beneath her, idly threading her fingers through her hair, her brain still caught up in Wesker.

Did the man not know what he did to her? She used to try to tell herself that she was only imagining that he was that good. His kisses turned her to liquid; her knees went weak, her chest heaving, she saw stars in her eyes. The way the heat of his skin made her burn for him, whether just a brush of his arm against hers or his long, hot fingers pressing against her moistness, they made her ache for him. The look in his eyes as he whispered her name, her real name, the tenderness there could almost make her weep.

Sighing, she drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around herself as the air cooled from the imminent storm. Leaning back, she watched the clouds darken and the wind whistle louder through the trees, the heavy scent of rain filling the air. The cold rain would be a welcome relief for her hot skin. Wesker knew just what to do to make her burn. Swallowing a low groan at the memory, she settled deeper into her chair, purposely thinking of nothing, watching the encroaching storm.

* * *

Wesker's eyes flitted across the screen as he read report after report, his frown deepening. Over the last few weeks, the outbreaks that were thought to have been controlled by the Tricell vaccine were back and now spreading across the globe at an alarming pace. The symptoms were now more pronounced because there was a much larger scale on which to study.

It started with a runny nose and dry mouth, which both could be symptoms of the common cold. More and more cases of pink eye with colds were being reported from health facilities around the globe, most of them in the northern-most and southern-most parts of the hemispheres. Wesker noticed, however, that they were slowly creeping towards the equator. More and more patients were reporting fevers and nausea, horrifying bouts of sneezing which irritated swollen lymph nodes. A few, he noted, were reporting cases of hallucinations. People believing that there were insects crawling beneath their skin, which caused them to scratch bloody swatches in their skin, making spreading the infection alarmingly easy. The worst part was that it was slowly becoming resistant to the vaccines and they had just recently figured out that the disease was rapidly becoming air-born.

His frown turned into a full on scowl when he read that almost all of the patients who had come down with the infection had died. There was rapid tissue growth and most, cancerous pustules on their already shredded skin. Their lungs slowly filled with liquid as their kidneys failed, resulting in a pressure build-up within the bodies. The end result was rather like a human water balloon left too long on the faucet.

No wonder Fraser had been looking for him. He needed someone to manufacture his cure. Wesker's lip curled in disgust. He took his glasses off and tossed them on the table beside him. He needed to procure a sample of infected blood and start from there. Taking his phone from his pocket, he dialed a number.

The phone rang twice then Wesker thumbed the cancel button, silencing it. Snapping the lid shut on his computer, he placed it next to him, setting his phone on top of it and standing. He tilted his head up to see Claire's form on the balcony above him, his features softening as he took in her lithe form. Tearing his fiery gaze from her, he made his way to the liquor cabinet, pleased to find that it was stocked with expensive whiskey. He splashed some into a cut crystal tumbler, the amber liquid filling the air with its pungent aroma. Wesker did not, in the least, condone excessive drinking. A fine glass of whiskey or the like in the evening occasionally or the champagne at a party, but not the cheap beer and vodka he remembered arresting imbeciles for while captain of STARS.

Taking a sip, he let his gaze slip over Claire's form once again. His phone buzzed on his computer quietly. Stalking back to the leather couch, he snapped it open. "Speak," he demanded tersely.

"You called me, sir," a silky female voice purred. There was a faint hint of fear in her voice and Wesker only heard it because he knew she was afraid. Smiling dangerously, he slipped his sunglasses back over his eyes and chuckled darkly.

"If it isn't the lovely Miss Ada Wong," he said, his smile as cold as a sharks. "I have need of your services."

"Oh? And what services of mine might that be, Wesker?" she cooed.

"Don't flatter yourself, Miss Wong," he said coldly. "I hope you enjoy cold climates. I need you to acquire a sample for me from Argentina, Ushuaia to be precise."

She was silent for a moment. "What kind of sample might that be?" she asked, sounding bored. He pictured her rolling her eyes and frowned.

"I need you to acquire me a sample of this new virus that's sweeping the globe. I want you to bring it to India to my lab. A sample is necessary, however, a specimen is preferable." She was silent once again, although he could hear her breathing. He knew she was weighing her options but he grew more irritated the longer the silence grew. "I trust I do not need to remind you what happens if you were to refuse me, do I, Miss Wong?"

"Of course not. I'll dig out my parka," she said, her voice once more a seductive coo.

"You had best," he growled and snapped the phone shut once again. That woman irritated him but she was the best in her field. He had never had a more resourceful or reliable insubordinate, except, perhaps Chris Redfield. Growling at that thought, he took a swallow of his whiskey, enjoying the burn down his throat. It pooled in his belly like liquid fire. Making himself comfortable once again on the couch, he picked up his computer and set to work once again.

* * *

A sharp crack of thunder brought Claire out of her musings just as a mother nature let loose the clouds. She squeaked as cold raindrops soaked through her t-shirt and jeans, plastering them to her skin. Her bangs plastered to her forehead, she slammed the door shut, shaking the excess water from her hands and face. She giggled as she descended the stairs to the main floor, wiping her face and flicking water everywhere.

Wesker looked up at her in irritation as she flicked a few drops of rain at him. Then his eyes caught on her luscious form, cloth sticking to her like a second skin, accentuating curves and valleys. Her hair was plastered alluringly across her shoulders. Bright green eyes peeked out of sodden bangs, lips curved in a giggle.

With a flash, he was standing behind her, his computer, sunglasses and phone left carelessly behind him on the couch. One hand was slipping beneath her shirt, the other lift her hair away from her neck to tangle in his fingers as he pressed his burning lips to her chilled skin. His hand slid beneath her shirt, caressing the expanse of her flat stomach, feeling her shiver from the chilly rain and the heat of his mouth on her skin. "You are the worst form of torture," he ground out, nipping her neck. Her heart raced in her chest as his heated breath skimmed her ear and down her throat. He held her back against him, his fingertips brushing the waist of her soaked jeans. With an almost inaudible groan, he tore himself away from her. "Go get changed, dear heart, and I will show you the labs." _Anything to keep my thoughts from your pale, pale skin_.

With another shiver, Claire stepped away from him and towards the bedroom, feeling his heated gaze on her the whole way. She looked over her shoulder at him, meeting his gaze for a moment, then slipped into the room. Entering the bathroom, she peeled her wet clothes from her chilly skin and dropped them on the floor with a splat. Picking up a fluffy towel from the stack next to the bathtub, she wrapped herself within it. She could have groaned at the sheer extravagance. Quickly, she dried bare skin, then sauntered back into the bedroom to rummage through their duffel bag.

She pulled out under garments and her black dress pants. It was followed with a plain white t-shirt and clean socks. Nothing beat clean socks. Shimmying into her black panties and slipping on her bra, she finished getting dresses, braiding her hair down her back. Once more, she put her black boots on, uncaring if she was wearing dress pants. She braided her hair down her back as she walked back out to meet Wesker for her grand tour.

* * *

**A/N: I hate this chapter. It took way too long to write and it didn't turn out the way I wanted. I am not abandoning this story! I repeat: I AM NOT ABANDONING THIS STORY! However, it may take a while for me to update again. I am losing my Microsoft Word program and I will be going away for a week or so. I realize I've been updating almost every three days, but I promise, it will get finished!**

**Your reviews are what keep me going. Thank you so much to littlevamp, Oh-insanidad, and Lady La-sara for their input after each chapter. I appreciate it more than you know!**

**Thank you!**

**Lady Anwe**


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29 Labs

Wesker pulled a key card out of his pocket and handed it to her. "You need this to get into the labs, dear heart," he said, fishing his own out of his pocket. It consisted of a rather unflattering picture of her, her name, and a barcode down one side. On the top, Gilead Engineering was written in blue ink. He held open the door and gestured her through it, latching it behind them before he opened the steel door with the card reader. The red light flashed green and a thick _clunk_ indicated that the door had unlocked. Pulling it open, he stepped into a hallway.

Claire could have groaned in recognition at the sight. It was another long, sterile white hallways, fluorescent lights interspersed down its length. _No, because nothing bad EVER happens in these long hallways,_ she though irritably. There was an identical door at the other end, complete with key reader as well. Once again, Wesker swiped his card, waited for the green light to flash and the thunk of the door, then pushed it open, ushering her inside.

It opened into a large room full of lab equipment. The walls were lined with stainless steel counters, cupboards below and also above. One wall was entirely covered in shelves, some already holding books and notebooks, others holding various lab implements. There was a cryostasis tube off to the left, and a large work table in the middle of the room.

Claire stared around, her eyes wide. There was so much stuff in here and she knew what almost nothing did. Feeling slightly irritated, she noticed there was three other doors in the room. "What's in there?" she asked, pointing to the steel door over his shoulder. Smirking, he silently swiped his card again, and held the door open for her to peek in. The lights flashed on when they sensed movement and Claire felt her blood run cold.

It was a stark room with six cells. The glass was floor to ceiling, but she noticed that it was reinforced and bulletproof, nearly six inches thick. Thick, steel girders separated each cell from the next which made her wonder how strong they really were. She had seen Tyrants rip through steel like it was tissue paper. Her stomach felt hot and tight as her eyes wandered over the room. Silently, she brushed past Wesker and back into his lab. The door shut with a clunk behind her.

"Where do those go?" she asked quietly, gesturing towards the other two doors in the room, afraid of the answer she might get. Wesker noticed her trepidation and slipped his arm around her shoulders and he guided her towards them. He opened one and she nearly sighed with relief. It was a simple office, although richly appointed. One wall had multiple computer screens on it, all of which held the slowly rotating blue GE logo. The large, glass-topped desk was accompanied by a luxurious leather chair with wheels. A large computer screen was in one corner of the desk, logo spinning silently on the screen. "I'm going to guess this is your office," Claire said, brushing her fingertips over the back of the leather chair.

Wesker just smirked at her. "Unless you plan on joining me in my research, then yes, this is mine," he said, his voice colored with amusement. "And before you ask, this door," he indicated to yet another steel door. "This one connects our little haven to the rest of the Gilead Engineering facility." He made no motion to open the door. Claire gave him a funny look, then decided she didn't care. _Another Hive, then._

"And the other door in the lab?" she asked, crossing her arms and leaning back against the desk.

Wesker grinned. "That, dear heart, is a surprise." He stepped closer to her, relishing the way her eyes widened and her breath hitched in her chest. Slowly, he trailed his fingertips down her cheek, down the pale column of her throat and across her collarbone.

He pressed a kiss to her lips, determined to not touch her any more than he already was. He was already taking time from his work to show her the lab, and as much as he would like to, he didn't have time to cover her skin with his lips and teeth. He would like nothing more than to whisk her back to their new home and strip her of her clothing and bury himself deep within her, listening to her screaming his name in her pleasure. She made him feel human, made him feel alive like nothing else ever had.

Pulling back, he was savagely please to see the dazed look in her eyes. She licked her succulent lips and looked up at him, blinking a few times. Wesker smirked down at her, his eyes blazing gold. "Shall I show you?" he asked quietly, brushing his thumb over her knuckles as he took her small hand in his large one.

"Wha-?" she asked, then remembered the unexplored door in the other room. Shaking her head, she clasped his hand in hers and nodded, a wary look in her eye. "What kind of surprise is this? I hope it's not some creature or something," she muttered, following him back into the lab.

He gestured for her to open the door with her keycard. Frowning slightly, she pulled her own card from her pocket and swiped it, hearing the door click open. Pressing her hand to the door in trepidation, she took a deep breath and pushed it open. And stopped, slightly confused.

The room itself wasn't very big, but the glass wall that opened into a large, deep pool of water. But there was nothing floating in its depths, crystal clear to the other side. A desk was pushed up to the wall beside the door, a computer with a revolving logo sitting on top. A desk chair, looking decidedly less comfortable that Wesker's, she noticed, was pushed in beneath it. Counters ran the length of the wall behind her, everything brightly polished stainless steel. And, just as in the bigger lab outside, there were shelves with books and notebooks, complete with shiny new lab instruments. It was about half the size of Wesker's.

Claire turned to look at him, her head cocked in confusion. "Albert, why do you need another tiny lab? What's wrong with the big one out there?"

Wesker chuckled softly, coming to wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her to him. He tipped her chin up too meet his eyes as he looked over his sunglasses, his eyes blazing a fiery gold. "Dear heart, this lab is for you," he murmured, smirking down at her.

Claire stared at him, a look of confusion on disbelief pained on her face. "What?"

"Your own lab. I recall you saying something about how you were going to miss doing your research beneath the island, am I right?" he asked, brushing his lips over her forehead. As he drew back, he noticed her facial expression hadn't changed. "I'm having all of your little rock creatures transferred here, and a few of those statues from the passageway. Various samples of things from the room have been collected and are being shipped as well."

He watched as the realization of what he had said dawned on her. Her face went from confusion to wonder to elation, making a small smile creep over Wesker's face. "Really?" she squeaked, clasping her hands in front of her and almost jumping up and down in glee. He had a very male vision of her in pigtails as she did. Shaking his head slightly, he kissed her forehead.

"Truly." He pulled her closer. "Everything should be here within the next three days. This is your lab, you can do as you wish."

Suddenly, Claire clasped his face between her small hands and pulled him down for a kiss, knocking his sunglasses askew, leaving them to hang from one ear. Repeatedly she kissed him, a giggle escaping from her lips between them. "Thank you!" she squealed, her eyes shining with happiness. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She kissed him a few more times.

Wesker chuckled quietly at her enthusiasm, tossing his glasses on the desk beside them. "You are most welcome dear heart." Then he sobered. "But, if you don't stop bouncing, I'm going to have to tie you down," he murmured, his voice sinfully soft. She instantly stopped moving, frozen by the feeling of his hot breath on her ear and the low, seductive purr of his voice, her heart racing. His fingers tangled in the hair at the back of her neck gently, tilting her heard for him to linger teasingly above her lips.

He watched her eyes as he slowly pressed his lips to hers, noting how they went from staring desperately into his, to a dreamy, unfocused haze, to her eyelids slowly fluttering shut. Over and over, he brushed his lips across hers, barely more than a heated brush of skin. Her hands slid down to clench in his shirt as she clung to him. Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her up and placed her on the desk, his hand once more buried in her hair.

"I thought you had work to do," she said breathlessly as his lips traced the veins in her throat. Her hands were still clenched in his shirt, unwilling to let him move even a fraction of an inch. She felt him smirk against her skin but he didn't answer her. He continued to press his lips to her hot skin as she mewled and gasped with pleasure, grateful she was sitting on the desk.

He pulled back to look at her shimmering eyes, smoothing his thumbs over her cheekbones softly. "Dear heart, I always have work to do," he murmured, and placed a chaste kiss beneath her ear before offering his hand to help her from the desk.

* * *

Three days later, her lab was no longer empty. There were vials and containers and pictures of nearly every inch of the cave. All of the little sea rocks were in a large aquarium situated on the table in the middle of the floor. The large tank of water was now housing six different statues, all from the passageway beneath the water. But what shocked and pleased her the most, was the ten foot by ten foot piece of wall that had been meticulously removed and transported without breaking. It had to weigh at least a ton. It was sunk beneath the water and was anchored into place on the wall.

Claire giggled as she stared into the water, watching the still attached tendrils of seaweed float gently off the stone forms. She had thought she was going to be stuck in their new place with nothing to do while Wesker disappeared for days on end, holing himself up in his lab. Now she had her own work to do, in a _real_ lab with everything she could possible need. And it was _hers._

She leaned back against the glass and surveyed the room. Frowning, she decided that she didn't like the desk next to the door, staring at the blank wall behind it. Unplugging the computer and setting it on one of the counters, she shoved the desk over in front of the glass window, looking out over the silent statues. Satisfied, she rolled the chair over and propped her feet up on the desk, hands behind her back as she stared into the water.

As she stared into the water, she could hear Wesker moving about in his own lab through the door she had propped open. She didn't feel the need for the secrecy as he did and was much more comfortable with it open where she could see him working. Leaning back slightly, she took in the sight of him wearing a pristine lab coat, black pants and a navy dress shirt, a small tie clip holding his tie back from the microscope he was peering intently into. He had even neglected to wear his sunglasses, although they were hooked in the pocket of his coat. Every so often, he would write something down on a clipboard in his strong, narrow handwriting, then go back to peering into the lenses.

"Dear heart, I can feel you staring at me," he said flatly, never removing his eyes from his work. Claire flinched and sat up, her feet hitting the floor with a thud. "Did you need something?"

Shoving her chair under the desk with her hip, she moved to lean against the counter next to him, watching him work. "No, not really," she said, glancing at the gibberish that was his notes. Would they ever make sense to her? She sincerely doubted it.

He had gotten a small package delivered the same day the piece of carved wall had arrived for Claire which was two days ago. It was no bigger than a shoebox and there was no writing or mailing information, just a purple, ornate _A._ It was wrapped in brown shipping paper as well, looking like a boring Christmas present. Wesker had scooped it up and deposited it in his office, snapping the door shut behind him to discourage prying eyes.

Claire was silent for a while, just watching Wesker work. He was very aware of her watching him, but said nothing. As long as she didn't start asking unnecessary questions or tampering with his work, he would allow her to stay. He knew that she knew better. A slight smirk on his lips, he continued to examine the sample on the glass slide.

Eventually, Claire got bored with watching him. She took a step past him and hesitantly brushed her fingers over his shoulders in passing. However, Wesker caught her hand and pulled her to him, pulling her into the embrace of his arms. "I have work to do, dear heart," he murmured, brushing his lips over hers. She nodded, placing her fingertips on his cheek. "However, I would like you to join me for dinner this evening. Perhaps around seven?" he purred, brushing another kiss to her lips.

Claire's eyes fluttered at the feather light contact. Swallowing thickly, she nodded. "Do you want me to make dinner?" she breathed.

Wesker chuckled. "That won't be necessary. The Fahd's have invited us for dinner once again, and I find that I cannot deny him a few hours of my time. Besides, I feel as if my company alone is not enough for you. You need female companionship, my lady," he said, gazing down into her eyes, a small smirk twisting his lips, the fiery gold blazing down at her.

Claire raised her eyebrow at him. "Female companionship? She's just nice, is all." Then she frowned. "Do I have to wear a dress again?"

His smirk grew wider. "It is recommended, dear heart; however dinner will be at their home, not a restaurant tonight. It does not need to be fancy." She nodded and pressed herself closer to him for a kiss. His hand cupped the side of her face as he pressed his lips to hers, more firmly and decidedly more passionately. As he pulled back, Claire hummed in appreciation, her eyes slowly drifting open, a lazy smile on her own face.

Turning, she pulled the door of her lab shut, then brushed her fingers over Wesker's broad shoulders on her way past him. She swiped her badge through the two doors, then stepped into the fresh, cool air of the house. Inhaling deeply, she could smell rain on the breeze again.

She decided she much preferred living here in the mountains compared to the little island in the ocean. Here, the rain was fresh, without the salty tang of the sea. The mountains loomed in the distance behind the house, forever wreathed with heavy white clouds. More often than not, there was rain pattering quietly down onto the land around them, filling the air with the musical sounds. At least once a week, there was a violent storm, the kind Claire would prefer to sit and watch. The thunder would crash and rumble around her, lightening flashing blindingly across the sky. The wind would howl through the house as she opened the windows to let in the fresh, clean air.

Wandering to the large window in the living room that looked over the mountain range, she leaned against the wall next to it. She stared out over the landscape. It was a very beautiful place they lived. There was a lake at the foot of the mountains, reflecting the majesty above them. The craggy mountains were perpetually blanketed with a layer of snow, no matter the season. The foothills were thickly forested, giving the land a deep green hue. Claire was also happy to see the fields of wildflowers between her and the lake, a myriad of bright colors in the dark landscape.

She watched the thunderheads form in the valleys of the mountains and slowly roll towards her, the deep boom of the thunder echoing gently in her chest. Flashes of silver lightening jumped between the clouds playfully. Soon, the clouds towered over the land, darkening the previously bright afternoon. The wind soon began blowing leaves around, stirring them up into a dizzying dance.

Claire made herself comfortable on the floor in front of the window, snatching a few pillows and a blanket from the couch to make a soft spot to lay. Glancing at her tablet phone, she was happy that it was only four, giving her a few hours to watch the storm. Setting it aside, she curled up and watched the coming maelstrom.

* * *

Wesker inhaled the lingering scent of Claire as she left the room, smiling briefly to himself. He really did have a lot of work to do since Ada had made good on her mission and had delivered him his samples. There were five vials as long as his hand and as thick as his thumb filled with the abnormally thick blood of the infected. She had also sent something rather gruesome that made him quirk his eyebrow in disgust.

There was a severed head of an old Russian male, reeking of old blood, stale vodka, and infection. He noted, however, that she had left the brain stem intact for him to study. If there was anything even remotely related to the T-virus, he needed both the brain and brain stem. It was currently sitting in a small cryogenic freezer, locked in his office. There was no need for Claire to be asking him why there was a head in his lab. Having only had the samples for two days, he was still doing preliminary paperwork on the samples.

At times like this, he wished that Birkin was there at his elbow, making the process take half as long. Will had worked along the same lines as Wesker, making them spectacular and dangerous lab partners, and unwittingly making them friends. Wesker still felt a small pang in his chest when he thought about Will. While he would never admit it, he missed him. Even with sleeping few hours, the process still took longer than it would if Will had been there. Every so often, he would find himself voicing an observation in the silence only to look up and see an empty room.

Finishing the paperwork for the fourth vial, he set the pen down and stood back from the microscope, scanning his notes. So far, three of the samples were females, one was male, and he still had one more vial to examine. It could wait until tomorrow, he decided. Gathering the clipboards, he deposited them in the bottom drawer of his desk. Gently, he placed the vials of blood into a padded case and locked them in the freezer beneath his desk. Sitting down at his computer in the office, he began to enter the days observations into the database.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30 Procreation

"I'm pregnant," Nisha said quietly, a dark blush coloring her cheeks, her smile radiant as she placed a hand over her still flat stomach. Fraser had his arm around her tenderly, his own face savage with pride. "That is why I was so ill on the plane here," she explained. "When we landed, my dear Fraser took me to the hospital and after they took a blood sample, they told me it was nothing more than nausea from carrying a child within me."

Claire smiled. "Congratulations, you two," she said, happy for both of them. They were sitting in the living room after having eaten a delicious traditional Indian meal. Nisha had cooked, insisting that it was a tradition from her family. The men were swirling glasses of an amber liquid and the ladies had opted for sparkling water when they retired to the sitting room.

Nisha looked radiant as she told them, wrapped in a purple sari. Her still flat stomach was delicately covered by a webbing of more mehndi designs. Claire knew each design had its own meaning, the one on Nisha's stomach begging for vitality, strength and grace to her growing child and protection for its mother. More brown lines wiggled their way across the backs of her hands and up her slender wrists, vines, leaves, peacocks and small paisley designs.

Shockingly, Wesker lifted his glass towards Nisha and said, "Congratulations. We wish you the best." He wrapped his arm around Claire's waist as he nodded, pulling her against him. Smiling gently, still shocked at Wesker's words, she toasted Nisha with her own glass, noticing Fraser do the same out of the corner of her eye. Nisha blushed again, quietly accepting their well-wishes. After a few more minutes of family matters, the men turned their discussion towards work while their women wandered into the moonlit garden.

Nisha had led Claire to sit on a stone bench next to a small trickling fountain, the moonlight reflecting from its surface in little silver crescents. The air was heavy with the rich smell of flowers, making the air thick in Claire's nose. She settled herself on the bench and indicated that Claire should join her. As she sat, Nisha took one of Claire's hands in hers, a small smile on her face.

Claire smiled back at her, closing her hands around Nisha's. "I'm so happy for you two," she said, grinning at her. "Do you know when you're due?"

Nisha grinned too, looking every bit the glowing mother to be. "No, not yet. I have another appointment with my doctor next week. By then, we should know." She grinned again and giggled excitedly. "I'm so excited! Fraser and I have been wanting children for so long now. The gods must have heard our prayers!"

Claire giggled with her, unable to stop smiling since Nisha's announcement. Nisha turned to look at her, a smile still on her lips. "I have seen the way you and Mister Albert look at each other too, my dear. When can we be expecting a darling little blonde haired angel to join our little one?" Claire instantly sobered, an icy stone dropping unpleasantly into her gut. She looked away from Nisha, suddenly finding the fountain very distracting. "Miss Claire?" Nisha asked quietly, sounding concerned. She grasped Claire's hand a little tighter in both of her.

Claire swallowed. "Uh, well," she began, refusing to look at the beautiful Indian woman beside her. "We've never really talked about it. I-I'm not even sure if I can have children…" she trailed off quietly, placing one of her hands against the cool grey silk of her short dress over her stomach. "It's been so long…" All those wonderfully long months she had been sleeping with Wesker and she had never gotten pregnant. She was suddenly away of the darkness surrounding them, the way the wind whistled through the small, decorative trees and rustled the leaves above them.

Nisha looked frightened. "I did not mean to cause you any worry, Miss Claire! Please forgive my rude questioning! Please, forget I even brought it up."

Smiling sadly, she turned to look at the distraught woman beside her. "Nisha, please, just Claire. And don't worry about it. Maybe one day there will be a small one to play with yours. I just don't know if I'm even capable of having children. It's something I'll have to discuss with Albert," she said quietly, the small smile still playing across her lips.

Nisha reached across and embraced her gently. "I know you will and everything will turn out in the end, my dear, you will see," she said, leaning back to look at Claire, smiling once again.

Claire just nodded. They sat quietly for a while, sipping their drinks as Claire stared into the rippling water, her hand still clenched tightly with Nisha's. This was not going to be an easy conversation and she didn't really want to discuss it with him. She knew that she should have ended up pregnant by now with all the copious amounts of mind-blowing sex they had been having, but she knew she wasn't. A hollowness settled itself in her stomach as she wondered if she would ever be a mother.

While she hadn't planned on having children any time soon, she still wanted them eventually. She had always dreamed of having a small wedding, a small family in their own little house, in their own little slice of domestic paradise. She could have laughed out loud at the thought of Wesker getting married. He just didn't seem like the marrying type. But then again, he didn't seem loving type either. And she knew he loved her, even if he didn't speak the words.

The thought of having children with Wesker though…

Instantly, her mind's eye painted a family portrait. There was Wesker, stoic and beautiful as a Grecian statue, missing his black sunglasses, eyes blazing gold in love. Claire was wrapped lovingly in his iron embrace, her lips pressed to his cheek, her arm wrapped around his waist while the other held a child to her hip. A beautiful, copper-haired little angel had her arms wrapped around her neck. The brilliant heartsblood and gold color of her father's eyes shone shyly from beneath golden lashes. On Wesker's pant-leg was the other child. He was the identical twin to the girl in Claire's arms, the same coppery golden of his sisters, but his eyes were like dark, liquid emeralds. Wesker's hand was placed protectively on the boy's head as he clutched his father's leg.

Claire's heart nearly stopped and she had to fight back tears that instantly formed in her eyes. She stared out into the darkness, her eyes unseeing as she mentally stared at their family portrait. Of what it could be. Gently disengaging her hand from Nisha's with a barely-there smile, she stood and stepped further into the darkness, her arms crossing over her chest as she sobbed in a breath. She refused to cry. Gritting her teeth, she tilted her head back to stare up at the moon, refusing to let the tears blur her vision.

When she returned to the house, Nisha was seated on the couch next to Fraser, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders as he still chatted with Wesker. When he sensed her approaching the door in the darkness, Wesker set down his glass and stood, coming to meet her in the semi-darkness of the doorway. As soon as he laid eyes on her, he knew there was something wrong.

He frowned down at her. "Dear heart, what is it?"

Claire didn't say anything, looking up at him with a wan smile on her pale face. His hands settled on her hips as he stared down at her through his ever present sunglasses, a frown marring his handsome face. Her hands pressed gently against his chest. "I'm fine, Albert, really," she murmured, unconsciously pressing herself closer to his warmth. Instinctually, his grip on her tightened, pulling her close.

His frown deepened at her words but he said nothing. He leaned down, his mouth hovering a hairsbreadth from her lips as he whispered without heat, "You _will_ tell me, dear heart." His hands tightened slightly, but then his lips pressed against hers gently, softly. Sliding his hand down her arm to grasp hers, he led her back towards the couches where the Fahd's were seated.

As they sat, Claire noticed that he never stopped touching her, whether his thigh was pressed against hers while she sat next to him or that his hand was draped across the back of the couch behind her, his fingertips brushing against her skin like feathers. The rest of the evening was spent with her skin shivering from his touch.

She felt the hollow feeling return as they stepped from the house, his hand pressed against her back as he guided her down the wide, flagstone steps towards his car. She traced the lines of the luxury sports car with appreciating eyes. She knew it was the Aston Martin Vanquish. It was beautiful and fierce looking, just like the man driving it. It was extravagant and predatory.

Wesker held open the door of the car for her as she slid into the dark interior. He came around to the drivers' side and got in beside her. The car purred to life, gravel crunching beneath the tires as they pulled from the drive. They were silent for the short ride home, and even they pulled into their own home, parking the car in the underground garage beneath the house.

Offering Claire his hand, he led her into their home, stripping his tie off as they entered the living room. He dropped it onto the coffee table as Claire sat heavily on the couch. She reached for the small buckles at her ankles but fingers encased in black leather intercepted her. "You know I kneel before no one, my lady," Wesker murmured as he looked at her through the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses. He knelt in front of her and took her dainty foot into his lap, his warm fingers skimming pleasantly against her skin as he unfastened the shoes from her feet, dropping them carelessly beside the couch.

Claire's breath caught in her throat as he bit the finger of his glove and pulled it off, dropping it the same way as her shoes. Then he looked up at her, his hand clamped gently, but unyieldingly around her ankle, his thumb tracing circles against her flesh. His blistering eyes stared into hers. "What happened at the Fahd's this evening?" he asked her quietly, his tone offering no insight into his mood.

Claire averted her eyes, opting to look out the dark glass behind him. She was afraid of what he would say, of what his reaction would be. Her hands clenched in the hem of her skirt across her thighs, still refusing to meet his burning gaze. His bare hand gripped her chin between his fingers, forcing her to look at him, his gaze stern. "I won't ask again," he said, his voice flat with irritation.

She took a shuddering breath and met his eyes. "Why haven't I gotten pregnant yet?" she asked quietly, her fingers clenching and unclenching in her skirt. She was afraid of the words that would come from his lips in response.

Wesker's hand slipped from her chin to caress the back of her neck, the other pulling her closer to him. She perched on the edge of the couch, tears burning in the back of her throat as she made herself meet his gaze. His eyes were carefully blank, his lips forming a small frown. "I truly do not know," he answered, his frown deepening. "It this what has made you so upset?"

She nodded, suddenly feeling foolish. Wesker would never want children, no matter how much she did. He was a solitary man and it was by pure chance that she had managed to worm her way into his life. She sincerely doubted that he would want screaming children added to his already busy life. Claire hung her head, the tears now threatening to slip down her cheeks.

"Look at me."

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she forced her eyes to his once more. His eyes bored into hers as he was silent for a while. "You want children, don't you?" he asked quietly. She nodded. He was silent once again, his eyes studying her face.

Children.

The thought was ludicrous. Albert Wesker did not want children, had no use for children. They would always be there to stab you in the back and take your hard work, claiming it for their own. Gods had a tendency of being slain by their children which was something Wesker was not going to allow to happen. Besides, the world had enough of the little parasites running around, dying, because no one would take care of them. The population was killing itself with its immensity. He was not going to add to the problem.

"I have no intentions of ever having children," he said coldly, watching the emotions wash over her face. Pain, followed by grief twisted her features as a tear escaped and trailed down her porcelain cheek. His thumb wiped it from her cheek gently. "However, I shall look into why we seem to be infertile. It would do to know the reason as to why."

She nodded and turned away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. Frowning, Wesker shifted to sit beside her on the couch, drawing her into his arms. She didn't let go of herself, but neither did she pull away. Her tears wet the sleeve of his shirt as he held her, though she made no sounds.

They were silent for a long time, neither moving or saying anything. Then her voice broke the still darkness, sounding sad and hurt. "Never?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Wesker tightened his arms around her small frame, holding her closer to him. He brushed his lips across her forehead. Slowly, he shook his head. "No, dear heart. Never. Why would you want to raise a child in a world that's full of hunger and pain? There are too many people already on this planet, why add another? It is unnecessary and unfair to the planet."

Claire frowned slightly at his words, but slowly nodded. His side of the argument made sense as well. The planet was already overburdened with humanity, adding to it seemed like a cruel gesture. Why he cared about the planet confused Claire, but she ignored it. He had said that he would look into why they seemed to be infertile, and that would have to be enough for her.

For now, anyway.

* * *

In front of him were the results of their blood tests and the images from the CAT scan he had done on Claire. His sharp eyes scanned the pages in front of him, curious, but unsurprised as to what he found. The results showed that they were both infertile due to the massive level of T-virus in their bodies. The virus was killing their reproductive cells as soon as they were produced apparently. Mildly curious as to why, he frowned as he took notes on a clipboard. Claire was not going to like what he was going to tell her. A tiny, miniscule part of him felt something like regret that he was not providing her with a family, but it was fleeting.

He continued to run diagnostics on their blood samples, determining that they were completely incapable of reproducing. Anything he could have done to reverse the process would have done irreparable damage to their viruses. They would mutate and there wouldn't be anything they could do about it. Feeling irritated that the universe was telling him he could not do something, he leaned back from the computer screen, staring at the bank of monitors on the wall. On one screen, he could see Claire sprawled comfortably across the coffee table, a pillow shoved under her head, her eyes glued to the book in her hand above her face. She was absently chewing on her lip as her eyes rapidly skimmed the pages.

She was not going to like this at all.

Pushing his sunglasses up his nose, he stood, shuffling all the papers on his desk into their folder and placing it neatly in the drawer. Pocketing his key card, he swept out the door, waiting to hear the satisfying thunk of the reinforced tumblers falling in place.

When he reached their home, he saw that she had not moved from her place on the coffee table. "There are numerous couches, chairs and beds for you to lay on, dear heart. I hardly think the coffee table is appropriate," he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorway, watching her. The room around them was dark, the moon sitting low in the western sky. It was very early morning and the birds were still silent.

Claire looked at him beneath her book, and made a face at him but didn't move. Setting the book face down on her chest, she regarded him with slightly cool eyes. "So what did you find out?" She shifted on the table, pulling the pillow further beneath her shoulders.

"It was exactly as I said. We cannot procreate because the virus within our blood is killing any reproductive cells our bodies make," he said, removing his sunglasses and polishing them with a cloth from his pocket. He slipped them back on over his burning eyes as he regarded her still form. "I am sorry, dear heart. It is not possible for us to have children."

She focused on the ceiling above her as a lone tear leaked from her eye, disappearing into her hair. Wesker came to lean over her, bracing his hands on either side of her shoulders as he looked down at her. Her hair was loose and spilled over the table beneath them, glimmering in the moonlight. She looked heavenly as she looked up at him with those sad, molten eyes shining in the darkness.

Slowly, he leaned down to brush his lips across hers, but at the last second she turned her face away so that he kissed her tear-stained cheek. He leaned back from her, frowning at her reaction. His lip twitching, he gently stroked the hair from her face and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Besides, would you really want to raise a child in the world we live in? Our lives are much too dangerous and unpredictable to be tied to one place with a child." He pressed another soft kiss against her ear. "This world is too broken and too dead for the human race to keep growing. They are going to wipe themselves out. I will not add to the stress of the planet." When he let her go, she rolled off the table, dropping her book to the floor and fled up the spiral staircase to the balcony above. Sighing soundlessly, he returned to his lab, knowing she needed time to be alone.

* * *

**A/N: Are there any Birkin fans out here? I've had an idea for him and I'm not entirely sure I should act on it... I personally love him. **

**I am so very grateful for all the reviews I've been getting! It really does help when I'm writing to see that there are people out there who enjoy my writing. I'm an artist, not a writer so this is doing wonderful things for my ego!**

**Thank you for all the reviews, and a special thank you to my faithful readers, Lady La-sara, Haveyouseenmyghost, littlevamp, and Oh-insanidad! But honestly, all of you guys, thank you so much!**

**Lady Anwe  
**


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31 Accusations

"So," said a cold voice behind him. "Is this what your little experiments were about?"

Wesker pushed his sunglasses up his nose and turned to face his interrogator. It had been almost two weeks since he had heard her voice other than a quivering shadow of what it used to be. Ever since she had found out that she would never be a mother, she had been quiet, sitting silently on the balcony for hours, arms wrapped around her knees. They hadn't shared a bed in that long either. When he would enter the room, she would suddenly shift and drift out of the room, never meeting his eyes. He knew she needed to deal with this, therefore he left her alone, glad to focus on his work uninterrupted. He had things that needed to be taken care of, sooner rather than later.

His little redhead was leaning against the door frame to his lab from hers. The look on her face could have rivaled one of his own, so incredibly cold and irate she looked, almost like an avenging goddess. He raised his eyebrows slightly at the hellish, angry fires of her eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said simply, picking up a clip board and jotting down a few lines, pretending to ignore her. Knowing he couldn't, his eyes stayed focused on the papers in front of him, but the rest of his senses were trained on her.

"Don't play stupid! Did you really think I wouldn't find out? That I would just sit idly by while your destroy the planet?" she seethed. Her arms were crossed beneath her lovely breasts, her face flushed in anger as she glared at him, her eyes flashing. "All these people dying I've been reading about on the news! I know that was you! Why?! Why do you need to poison everything?" she demanded, marching over to him angrily.

"I can assure you that I have had nothing to do with whatever this is, dear heart," he said, peering at her over his sunglasses, his voice cold at her accusatory tone. "This virus is why I decided to look for employment within a company. Do you think I enjoy being under someone else's thumb?"

Claire snorted in disbelief, shaking her head. "No one in the _world_ can control the great Albert Wesker. You do whatever you want! I sincerely doubt that this was hard for you to pull off!" she shouted, reaching out to jab him in the chest, her eyes blazing.

He caught her wrist and twisted it up behind her, pressing her against the table with a loud thud, pinning her between the table and himself, her behind pressed to enticingly against his hips. Her elbow came up and smashed him in the side of the head, sending his sunglasses skittering across the floor. He fell back a step, letting go of her, shaking his head to clear his vision.

"Every day mankind comes one step closer to extinction. While I am not going to argue the practicality of wiping out the majority of the population, I however, and not destroying the world. I'm saving it!" he hissed at her, his eyes flashing angrily.

"Every time! Every _fucking_ time I think something's gotten better with you, that this ridiculous notion of needing to be god has disappeared, something like this happens!" she bristled, lashing her foot out only to have him catch it just before it connected with his chest. He twisted it, throwing her off balance to skid across the floor on her knees.

But just as she was going to stand up and whirl around to face him, she was slammed into the wall, his hand clenched around her throat, gripping but not crushing. His lips brushed her ear as he pressed her against the wall, slamming her fist against the wall when she tried to punch him in the side of the head. She attempted to buck him off her, planting her feet firmly on the floor, but his thigh slid between hers and lifted her off the floor a few inches, taking away any leverage she had.

"Are you listening now?" he demanded, his voice sharp and seductive like dark chocolate poured over broken glass. His eyes flashed crimson as he glared down at her struggling in his grasp but he never relinquished his grip on her. He leaned against her, crushing her to the wall to restrict her movements, never mind she was wiggling against his hard body in ways that made his mind wander ever so slightly. Slowly, she stopped struggling, her body going limp against his. Sullenly, she nodded. He didn't move, his eyes flaring. "That's better. I do, however, know who is behind it," he said, pulling back just enough to look down at her, his hands pressing her shoulders to the wall.

She peered up at him, her brows furrowed in confusion. "You do? How?" She seemed to have forgotten all of her previous anger in her surprise. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the burning, seductive man in front of her. His shirt sleeves were rolled up in just that perfect way, two buttons unbuttoned at his collar. The pristine white lab coat over it was rough beneath her hands as she grasped his shoulder with her free hand.

Claire had been mad at him, then sad, then understanding of what Wesker had said regarding children. But while she had been sorting her emotions out, she had avoided, unable to look at him, her vision filled again and again of the copper haired twins from her imagination. Eventually, she shoved the image down, stomped beneath a trap door in her mind, locked and the key thrown away. She needed to feel him against her now. She would not deny herself the burning man in front of her any longer. Even if she couldn't have both, she would take the one she had.

He chuckled darkly, nuzzling the soft skin beneath her ear before whispering heatedly, "I have my sources, my lady."

Claire's arm came instinctually around Wesker as he pressed lingering kisses to her skin. "What are you going to do about it?" she asked breathlessly, her head falling back against the wall with a thump.

"Ever the Redfield, eager for action," he chuckled darkly. "I shall be leaving within the next few days for Europe. I have had my people looking for this man for a very long time."

She pushed him back to look at his face. "Who is it?" she asked, trying to control her raging hormones.

"I sincerely doubt you know who this man is, dear heart," he said, burying his face in the curve of her shoulder, nipping at her heated skin. His hands slid down her body to grasp her thighs and pull her legs up around his waist.

"Who is it?" she insisted, her arms curling around him again.

His teeth nipped her skin again, pulling her close, his hands tangled in her hair. "A man name Ozwell E. Spencer," he growled, leaning back to stare down at her, his eyes blazing. Claire felt a shiver run through her. Despite what he believed, she knew who the man who the man was, although she didn't know a whole lot more than that. He was one of the founders of Umbrella. Last she had heard about him was right after the Raccoon City incident, blaming him for everything. Then he just kind of disappeared. The FBI and the Russian FSB had looked for this man for years yet no one seemed able of finding him.

"Last I heard, no one could find him," she whispered as his lips tickled her ear. His arms came around her, pulling her close to him as he lurched towards his office. Claire frantically waved her keycard at the door as he pressed her against it, his lips devouring hers. The tumblers released with a dull thud, then they were half stumbling through his office. He fell into his desk chair, keeping Claire firmly in place straddling his muscular hips. He tangled his fingers into her hair near her scalp and bent her head back, exposing her throat. She groaned quietly, her eyes fluttering in pleasure.

"No one can hide from me." His teeth closed on her ear as his hand slid beneath her shirt, sliding against her heated skin. He felt the shivers skitter across her skin as he brushed against her.

"When do you leave?" she gasped as his nails raked over her skin gently. Her feet dangled over the arms of his chair, their bodies pressed together. Her fingers were pulling at his shirt this time, yanking buttons through holes as she bared his chest, raking her nails down his skin, but she knew he didn't like gentle. A loud groan escaped from between his clenched teeth. Red welts rose on his chest as he shoved her shirt over her head, dropping it to puddle on the floor at their feet.

He growled when her teeth bit down on his neck, his hands clenching on her waist. "I leave in three days," he ground out. "And before you ask, no. You can't come with me."

"How long are you going to be gone?" she shoved her hands beneath his coat, shoving it from his shoulders to hang over the back of the chair. Groaning when his fingers raked across her skin again, she shoved at his shirt, determined to get it off of him. Getting violently impatient when her clothing got stuck, she shoved herself from his lap, nearly ripping her pants from her legs. "Off. NOW!" she demanded of him, pointing at his own pants.

Laughing darkly, he obliged her, kicking boots, pants and socks beneath the desk. As he fell back into the chair, he wrenched her to him, burying his face in her breasts. Her fingers raked his scalp as his hot lips devoured a nipple, his hands snaked behind her shoulders and up her back, pulling her back for greater access to her skin. She yanked on his golden hair, biting back a curse as his teeth closed over a puckered peak.

She groaned loudly, making it into a wordless plea. He only chuckled and latched onto the other nipple, raking his nails down her back. His breath was hot against her skin. "No longer than three days," he growled, pulling her down to grind against his hips. She could feel his hard shaft pressing thickly against her thigh. His head nudged her wet folds, gliding against her dripping skin. A moan escaped her lips as he nudged the white-hot bundle of nerves hidden within.

He chuckled again when she wiggled against him, trying to convince him to press inside her. Watching the looks that skittered across her face when he slipped against her, he slid forward slowly, his hand fisted in her hair, holding her face back so he could watch her. There was a frown on her face as he continued to deny her. It was driving him crazy, feeling the wetness of her against his skin without being buried to the hip within her. Claire growled at him, reached beneath her, and guided him inside, refusing to give him a chance to tease anymore. She groaned loudly as he slowly filled her. It felt so good, so perfect, so _right_ to have him there.

As soon as he was buried within her completely, he instantly pulled out again, teasing her lips with the tip of his prick. He stroked against her again, but this time when she got fed up with his teasing, he thrust himself within her in one smooth stroke. He swallowed the line of giddy gibberish that spilled from her lips at the sensation, his own lips slanted over hers in a soul-searing kiss. Over and over he would pull from her heat, slip against her swollen lips, repeatedly nudging her sensitive nub only to plunge within her once again, his mouth swallowing whatever garbled words managed to slip from her mouth.

Claire was beside herself with pleasure, she didn't know whether to scream or cry. It just wasn't _quite_ enough. She was so very close to the edge she knew she was shaking, but she couldn't get there. "Please…" she whimpered, her hands scrabbling frantically on the arms of his chair, tears of frustration standing out in her eyes.

That made him stop all together, pressed as deep within her as physically possible as her body quivered over his. He reached up to capture her lips once again, all deep, slow, liquid heat all while pressing heavily within her. His hips twitched and Claire nearly blacked out so intense was the pleasure. All that heavy pressure was now pressed exactly where it felt so good it burned. She felt like her skin was on fire, slowly melting her away. She had to be melting. Otherwise she'd burst into flames.

Then his lips were on her throat, biting down on the cord between her neck and shoulder. She writhed against him, begging silently for him to touch her, but his hands remained wrapped around her waist, holding himself deep within her. A generous, lazy nibble on her collar bone, his hot tongue sweeping across her skin after. She shivered as the cold air hit the path his tongue had left, causing her vision to darken in pleasure once again.

The world tilted beneath them as he took her nipple between his teeth, biting down causing a golden shiver of pleasure to slip through her, pushing her higher and higher in her pleasure. She leaned back further, giving him more room to explore with his lips. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, the one hand slipped down between them, pressing down on the taut nub, moving his hips in a circle.

It was too much. Between his teeth on her nipple, the rough finger pressing against her clit or the fact that he had hit that magic button inside her, she cried out loudly, wordlessly to the ceiling above her, her vision blank in pleasure. One hand was fisted in his hair, the other clenching the arm of his chair.

He looked up at her, his golden eyes gleaming dangerously, a sinful smirk on his face. Wrapping his arms more securely around her, he picked her up and deposited her on the desk, still buried within her. He pushed her to lay back, still dazed from her orgasm, pressing a kiss to her lips. His fingers trailed down her cheeks slowly, across her collar bones, and down to cup her breasts in his hands. He placed a soft kiss on each nipple then stood up, lifting her calves over his shoulders, thrusting into her deeply. She cried out, clenching the edge of the desk tightly. The back of her thighs pressed to his chest, her ankles behind his head, he clamped down on her hips and thrust into her.

She felt so good, so tight. Always so tight. He was close. He had nearly lost it when Claire's muscles clenched around him in her release. Gritting his teeth, he pounded into her, being rewarded with loud groans and half attempted moans of his name. He smirked down at her, eyes bright as he took in her form.

Her fiery hair was spread across his desk, her eyes glazed from their passion. Her lips were swollen from his ardent kisses, slick and delicious. Her teeth biting that delightful lip, eyes narrowed in pleasure as he plunge into her over and over. His hands were locked around her hips, not allowing her to move away from him.

"Say my name!" he demanded, staring down at her, his golden eyes flaring.

"Albert!" she screamed as another orgasm ripped through her, her fingers clenched painfully on the glass of the desk beneath her. Wesker couldn't take it anymore. He slammed his hips into hers three more times then groaned like a wounded animal as he came, almost violently, deep within her. Not that he would ever admit, but his body trembled with the intensity. His eyes burned like copper, somewhere between gold and red, narrowed as he spilled himself within her, his mind completely blank in the onslaught.

A few moments later, he realized he had his head pillowed on Claire's stomach, her hands absently brushing through the corrupted strands of his hair, hunched over her frame, his elbows on either side of her body. Her legs had slipped down his body and were now resting on the chair behind him, locking him in the circle. When he looked at her face, she was glowing with contentment, a soft smile on her lips, her eyes closed.

She felt him shift and opened her eyes to smile up at him lazily. "Well, hi there," she murmured, slipping her arms beneath her head to look at him.

He quirked an eyebrow at her as he leaned towards her lips, signature smirk plastered on his face. "Hello," he breathed, then pressed his lips to hers. His lips were soft and gentle as he rubbed them against hers, velvety soft friction between them. "Delicious," he murmured, pulling back to look down at her.

Claire just smiled languidly up at him. She trailed a foot up the back of his thigh slowly. "Will you take a bath with me?" she whispered as his lips traced her ear, his breath hot on her skin.

"Perhaps. If I do, will you listen to me?" he leveled as an ultimatum.

She nodded, rolling her head to look up at him, a lazy smirk on her face. He stepped into his pants again, but left the rest of his clothing scattered around the office. Claire giggled a little when she saw that he hadn't buttoned or zipped his pants as he leaned down to scoop her into his arms. Her arms slithered around his neck as he moved towards the door.

"Dear heart, the card is in my back pocket. Would you be so kind as to fish it out for me?" he asked, smirking down at her.

Claire grinned up at him and slipped her arm between them and around to his back pocket. Slowly, she slipped her hand into the pocket, pressing her hand against his firm flesh. Was there no part of this man that wasn't perfect? She nearly hummed in appreciation. She realized she was taking too much time appreciating him when he cleared his throat and looked down at her in amusement. Flushing, Claire pulled the plastic card from his pocket and swiped it through the reader, refusing to meet his eyes any longer. He just laughed.

As he stalked through the house, Claire snuggled closer to his burning skin, reveling in the way his skin pressed against hers. When they reached the bedroom, he tossed her to land unceremoniously in a heap on the bed, he ducked into the bathroom as she tried to whip a pillow at him. Growling in frustration, she threw another, knowing full well that she wasn't going to hit him. _Ugh_. He laughed at her for groping his perfect butt then he threw her on the bed like a load of laundry. Frowning and crossing her arms, she sat cross legged in the middle of the bed, glaring at the bathroom doorway. She heard water turn on and assumed that he was filling the large tub with water. Closing her eyes, she cracked her neck. It didn't matter though, she was still mad at him.

"Dear heart, are you just going to sit there?"

Her eyes snapped open, angry retort on her lips but then her heart stopped.

Wesker was leaning against the door frame, one arm over his head, his pants nearly falling from his hips. His hair was mussed from their earlier foray, falling across his forehead in a damp tangle. His eyes were burning gold as his vision raked over her naked form. _I died_, she thought. _I'm dead, I'm gone. I'm dead._ There was no way he was waiting for her looking all perfect and gorgeous and one hundred percent untouchable. But the way his eyes burned into her was something no other living soul would ever see. And she knew it was for her alone.

Gulping, she slipped from the bed and padded forward, her eyes caught on his, unable to look away. He turned and disappeared into the bathroom, a sinful chuckle drifting out to her. When she burst through the door, he was already sitting in the tub, relaxing in the hot water. Both hands were behind his head as he leaned back. "I see you decided to join me after all," he said sardonically, as he lazily opened one eye, a smirk on his face.

She nodded, stepping down into the water, unable to take her eyes from his. He held his arms open to her and she slipped between them, resting comfortably between his muscular thighs. She tucked her head beneath his chin and slowly drew swirls in the water in front of her.

"Are you going to listen now?" he asked, unable to stop himself from running his hand down her back lightly. She shivered against him and nodded. "Good."


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32 _"Be safe"_

Wesker was silent for a time, organizing his thoughts and picking the words he was going to say. "As I'm sure you've heard the virus started out in the cold regions of the planet. I received reports of the pandemic but they were few and far between, hardly worth noticing. More and more within the last few months, these numbers have been increasing at a near alarming rate. The reason I wanted to find a suitable company for my work was so that I would continuously informed on the information and data that came available from studying this virus. And yes, it is a virus."

Claire nodded beneath his chin as he took a breath, toying with a strand of her hair in the water between them, then continued. "Victims report thinking that they were only coming down with a common cold, coughing, sneezing and the like. As we all know, the cold is highly contagious. No one thinks anything of it; spreading it to everyone they come in contact with. Apparently it is often accompanied by pink eye. But as their symptoms persist, they report coming down with high fevers and becoming quite nauseous." She leaned closer to him, her head resting in the crook of his neck, her lips brushing his skin. His hand skimmed down the bold swell of her hip.

"These symptoms last for almost three weeks, filling emergency rooms and hospitals with these infected humans who think they've all contracted a version of the cold. The close quarters with other humans cause the infected to hallucinate insects crawling beneath their skin, raving madly with fever. They scratch bloody holes in their skin, trying to dig them out, blood coating fingers and flesh. Infected blood," he said, his voice unfeeling as he wove the horrible picture into her mind.

Claire shuddered in the hot water, her arms instinctually wrapping around her knees. How easily infections were spread in blood. The thought made her queasy with apprehension. This sounded almost like a global version of Raccoon City. And it had happened in just two days. That was a nightmare she had been fortunate to escaped, now there wouldn't be anywhere to escape to afterwards. Hundreds of thousands had already died around the globe. This didn't sound like something she could deal with. Raccoon had nearly killed her. It would have if it hadn't been for Leon. _But you have Wesker this time around. How bad can it really get?_ She argued with herself. And he was stronger, faster, and much more deadly. _Chin up! You're a Redfield!_

Wesker continued speaking. His voice was hypnotic as she listened. "They develop pustules on their already bleeding skin. They blister and ooze, infecting others around them, brushing against people in the crowds. Eventually, their kidneys fail as their lungs fill with liquid." He paused, then said, "The end result is much like a water balloon." Claire felt sick when he told her. Their bodies filled up with so much liquid at the end that they just explode…? She couldn't imagine a worse way to die.

He combed his fingers back through his hair, attempting to straighten the blonde tangle, his head tipped back. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Tricell had developed a vaccine to treat it and it worked for a while, but now the virus has mutated to become resistant to everything that's been tested. It has become airborne in the cold places of the world. That means it could soon catch on the winds and spread across the globe."

She frowned, her fingers ceasing their circling in the water. "How is it airborne in the frozen air?" she asked. "Doesn't the air need to be humid to support the life of the virus?" She didn't know if she wanted to hear the truth.

Wesker chuckled quietly, brushing her hair to one side and pressing his lips to her ear. "Aren't you just the little scientist," he mocked, nipping the skin behind her ear. She shuddered in his hold, pressing closer to his heat. "That is true for most viruses, but this one seems to be able to survive in the air, crystalized until it's breathed into its next host."

Claire looked mildly confused. "I suppose it someone sneezes or breathes, or, uh, explodes," she paled. "The moisture from their infected selves gets frozen in the air, goes to sleep until it's inhaled into a warm body; it wakes up and infects them, right?"

"Correct. And, as of right now, there is no cure for this. Tricell's failed and there is nothing else. However, I know Spencer is the man behind all this. He's been trying to find the cure for old age." His lips twisted wryly at the thought. "This must be a new test of his. I'm going to stop him. Why? Because I can. I will do everything in my power to stop that man. He made mock of me in Raccoon City. Never again," he said, he voice dangerous. His arms pulled her closer in the steaming water as he readjusted his legs beneath them.

Claire nodded silently and slipped from his grasp, reaching for a wash cloth from the edge of the large stone tub. Soaking it in the water, she pressed it to her neck, letting the water trickled down her neck and chest, her eyes catching on his. She stared at him for a moment, her face contemplating, her eyes guarded, weighing his words. Then she shrugged and simply said, "Okay."

Wesker raised his eyebrows minutely in surprise. It was over and without a fight. How very unlike his Redfield. His eyes raked over her form as she contemplated him through the steam of the bath. He leaned back once more, his muscles flexing as he slid his hands behind his head, his customary smirk playing over his face. They were silent for a while, each relaxing in the hot water, then Claire broke the silence.

"Where exactly are you going?"

He cracked a blazing eye to look at her. "The Spencer Estate is located on a relatively remote island off the northern tip of England, dear heart."

"And why can't I go with you?"

Wesker frowned. "Because, this has nothing to do with you," he said shortly.

Claire sat up and glared at him. "It does too! You weren't the only one who got fucked up over Raccoon City. It wasn't just _your_ plans that got screwed! How many people died because of this asshole?" she said, her voice like sharp shards of ice. "I was one of those people and I think I should come mete some justice out on his wrinkly old ass, regardless of what you're doing."

Wesker's frown deepened. "This is more than just revenge, I'd have you know," he said coldly, still not opening his eyes.

"Oh yeah? Then what else is it besides you getting to hoard all the revenge?" she demanded, her eyes flashing. When he didn't answer, she growled and flung her wet wash cloth at him. It landed with a splat on his face, making Claire stifle a hysterical giggle, her eyes wide.

Slowly, Wesker reached up and pulled the wet rag from his face, the water drops slipping down his cheeks like small jewels. His eyes burned like infernos, burning that almost frightening, most definitely alluring golden copper color as his eyes flicked open, his gaze melding her to the spot. His expression was unreadable, as blank as a marble statue.

"Yes," he breathed as he suddenly invaded her space viciously, looming over her menacingly. She hadn't even seen him move. "This is also an information gathering mission. So when you've finished throwing your temper tantrum and can behave like an adult, you will realize this. So no; you cannot come with me. Is that understood?" His voice sounded like a captains' as he addressed her, hard and demanding, ruthlessly pressing her back towards the edge of the tub. She met the edge of the tub with a small _eep!_ Of surprise, her eyes widening in alarm as he pressed closer, that blank, blazing look on his face. Her breathing was fast and shallow as she looked anywhere but at him.

One hand held his weight as he leaned over her, his other hand gripping her chin, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes were wide and dilated as her tongue darted out to wet her lips. "Is that understood?" he purred, his eyes boring into hers, voice as cold as ice. His lips hovered a breath above hers, waiting for her answer.

"Y-yes, sir," she said, unable to stop herself. Wesker's black grin spoke of dark promises, slippery skin and screams of passion when he heard that word leave her lips. Her eyes widened as her eyes met his, a look of near fear on her face. Her heart raced in her chest, threatening to burst through her skin. But as soon as his lips touched hers, the fear fled, although her hands stayed clenched in her lap as he kissed her.

"Between my name and calling me 'sir', I'm not quite sure which one I prefer, Claire," he breathed into her ear when he pulled away slowly, his fingertips trailing down her throat from her chin. She shuddered as his voice slipped through her ears, like smoky, honeyed whiskey poured over jagged glass, the way his tongue and lips pronounced her name, and the heat of his breath on her skin. His scent was filling her nose, heady in the steamy air from their bath. Her head spun dizzily from his soft burning kiss mixed with the steam and heat and overwhelming fragrance of the man in front of her. Her knees shook as he stared down at her, eyes burning.

She had denied him for two weeks, and he was done playing whatever game this was. She was here, in front of him, already kissed incoherent, and he had already had her once. But if she thought once was going to be enough to make up for the last two weeks, she was_ sorely_ mistaken.

* * *

It was late that afternoon when Claire finally resurfaced, sprawled across the floor sprawled beneath the table in the kitchen, Wesker's hot body tangled with hers on the cold tiles. She stifled a giggle when she realized where they were, a hot flush creeping up her face. His hand tightened on her behind, pulling her hips closer to his. Her hands were tangled in his hair, both their hearts thundering in their chests.

Then she realized how sore she felt.

_Sore and utterly delicious_, she thought as she pressed against his burning skin, their bodies entwined intimately. Suddenly, his hand was slanting her chin up to meet his, his lips pressing against hers, rolling his weight above her. When he whispered her voice, her skin instantly broke out in shivers, his hips pressing enticingly down on hers, burning fingertips once again stroking a dusky nipple, effectively wiping her mind blank once again.

* * *

The chill breeze against his skin woke him from his stupor as he groped blindly across the bed in search of Claire's hot skin. When he reached the other side of the bed, he rolled over and looked at his watch on the nightstand next to the bed. It was 2:58 in the morning. He glanced out the bedroom door into the living room and saw Claire's figure sprawled across the floor on a soft blanket, staring out the window, completely nude.

He threw the tangled sheets from his legs and slid out of bed, silently padding into the living room. He stopped behind the couch, taking in her glorious form. Then, when she was outlined sharply with silver, momentarily blinding him with its brilliance, lightening flashed across the sky. He knew her love of thunderstorms. She must have heard the thunder and come to watch it in the big window of the living room. A smirk curled his lips and his eyes flashed in the darkness as he studied her.

She was lying on her back, head turned to watch the coming storm, one hand behind her head as she chewed on her pointer of the hand, her hair tumbling riotously around her. She had her right leg propped on top of the left, her foot jiggling absently in the air. Another flash of lightening illuminated her again, and his eyes caught on the mark that had appeared on her shoulder. It was that sensitive space between her neck and shoulder and he was darkly thrilled to see the marks of his teeth still there.

Claire wasn't surprised in the least to feel his lips trace along her ribs, leaving a burning trail in their wake. A smile slid across her face when she felt him adjust her legs to allow him between her thighs, his hands settling next to her ears on the floor. He nosed aside her hair so his lips could trace the sensitive ridge of her ear. "You weren't in bed," he accused her quietly, then bit down on her earlobe, causing her to shiver viciously. Lightening flashed across the sky, soon followed by the booming thunder. He soothed her skin with a slow, sensual swipe of his tongue, causing her arms to come around him, her nails pricking his skin.

She giggled slightly. "You were sleeping and there is a storm coming in," she breathed, rolling her head to the side to allow his lips access to her throat. His hands slid beneath her shoulders, cradling her head in his hands, fingers tangling within her fiery silken hair as he traced across her collarbones.

"And a storm is more important than being in my bed?" he growled, tugging her hair slightly as he nipped her throat gently. She shivered beneath him, and giggled again. He pulled back to quirk an eyebrow at her, a not-so-amused look on his face. Another silvery flash of lightening lit the sky. Claire could feel the thunder reverberate in her chest.

She looked at him then rolled her eyes. Trailing her nails from his shoulder to his scalp, she tangled her fingers in his hair, yanking his lips back down to meet hers. She hooked her leg around his and flipped him onto his back, her hair falling around them like a curtain. Lightening silvered the sky once again, thunder rumbling through the air. Nipping his lip, she stared scorchingly into his eyes, impaling herself on his throbbing shaft with a soft groan, and whispered, "Never."

* * *

He couldn't remember the last time he had been so pleasantly sore in all the right places. There may not be, he thought smugly as he stared down at the woman draped so wantonly, so intimately across his body, her face pressed to his neck. One hand was fisted in his hair, the other arm thrown carelessly around his neck. He had one knee pulled up, cradling her to his chest, the sheet thrown haphazardly across them, blankets and pillows scattered.

The mark on Claire's neck was slowly fading; it would be gone within the hour, but it still thrilled him to see his own mark on her, something that made her undeniably his. He was a selfish and possessive man after all. He raised his hand to inspect the tooth marks in his hand. They belonged to Claire. He had demanded that she suck on his fingers as she bit down in the midst of another painfully overwhelming orgasm ripped through her. He smirked and caressed the slowly fading mark with his thumb.

Looking down at her again, he could feel himself stirring again, his eyes trailing over her soft, pale flesh, perfect curves, and firm muscles. She was built for him, he decided, staring down at her, trailing a hand through her hair absently. The way she fit him like a velvet glove as she screamed his name from those perfect lips. The way she tested his patience, the way he was nothing more than a man to her, and the way she wasn't afraid to pick a fight with him; she was his personal brand of torture. He ran a finger over her nipple gently, dark delight hardening him further as it puckered beneath his touch.

Reaching down, he shifted her in his arms to press a kiss to her lips, and she opened her eyes blearily, attempting to kiss him back. "Albert," she murmured in pleasure as his lips traced her cheekbones and down her throat. Then she understood what he wanted when his hands slid down her body and pulled her up to straddle his hips, his face buried in her breasts. Her sleep muddled mind couldn't protest, but the slickness in which he entered her told her that she definitely did not want to. His fingers dug into her shoulders as he pressed his face closer to her skin, her arms coming up to cradle his head, a sultry moan escaping her lips

Two weeks was a long time and he still had a good day and a half until he had to leave.

* * *

Claire was just in a daze. She was laying between his legs as he leaned against the headboard, the sheet covering his lap. Her head was pillowed on his thigh as he slowly hand-fed her fruits from a bowl on the nightstand. They were currently munching on grapes. She giggled a little as she neatly nipped the fruit from his fingers, snuggling closer to his heat.

The last few days had been a blur of Wesker. Above her, below her, behind her, you name it, they'd probably done it. A blush heated her cheeks as she accepted a strawberry from him, her hand stroking his knee lightly, an indulgent smile on her face as she watched him from her upside-down perspective. She munched on the sweet berry, watching him eat his own fruit. He smirked down at her when he noticed she was watching him. He fed her the other half of his strawberry and she nipped playfully at his fingers as she accepted the morsel.

She watched him as he leaned over and picked up another small bunch of grapes, admiring the way his muscles moved beneath his skin. Her minds' eye pictured the same smooth muscles sliding against her, slick with sweat as they raced each other to the peak, shattering together and slowly drifting to the floor. Or when he had challenged her to a naked sparring match, claiming that anyone can fight with clothes on, but that a true soldier can perform under any conditions. It ended with them making love in the grassy courtyard of the garden, in the middle of the night, with her screaming his name to the stars above.

She shifted against him, leaning back against his chest. His leg slipped over both of hers, effectively wrapping her in his body. She looked at him for a long while, silently eating the proffered fruits as they lay in silence.

"You're staring," he stated bluntly, his eyes measuring her clinically.

Claire said nothing, finishing the grape in the mouth before swallowing. "When are you leaving?" she asked, taking another grape, relishing in the sharp, sweet flavor.

He chuckled darkly, crunching a grape between his teeth. "I'm not leaving for another twelve hours, dear heart, don't worry. I'm not done with you just yet," he said, his voice rich with dark promises. He dropped the rest of the fruit back in the bowl and pulled Claire up against him in a long, slow kiss. "I may never be done with you, Claire."

She shivered at his words. "Promise?" she whispered as his lips worshipped her skin once more. Would she never tire of him? Every time he touched her, it was like an unquenchable flame had kindled within her and he was the only cure. The more he was touching her, kissing her, loving her, the more she needed all those things.

He only smirked that all-knowing smirk down at her before his lips crashed into hers again, all coherent thought leaving her mind.

* * *

Having spent the last three days naked, wrapping in the hot, iron embrace of Wesker, it felt odd to be wearing her own clothes. Jeans and a t-shirt were oddly confining now and definitely much too solitary. She sat on the back of the couch, watching him check his gun and briefcase before slipping his long black coat on. It was the beginning of November and the winds were chilly. As usual, he was dressed in black; black shirt, black pants, black boots. She knew he wore a holster beneath each arm for his guns; twin Samurai Edge, although only one bore the STARS emblem. Then he turned to face Claire.

She smiled up at him halfheartedly. His arms came around her and she reached up to snatch his sunglasses from his face, slipping them to the top of her head as she stared up into his burning eyes. She didn't say anything for a while, just looked at him, her arms around his neck, pressed against him. Wesker ducked down for a kiss and her fingers instantly curled in his hair, holding him to her.

"Be safe," she whispered against his lips. She heard him smirk and opened her eyes to glare at him.

"I hardly think anything is going to happen to me, dear heart. Spencer is an old man; what can he do?" he laughed darkly. "Nothing can kill me, you know that."

She frowned at him. "That's not the point. Don't be an asshole," she said, stepping back and crossing her arms. "Just… Please. For me? Be safe. I'm going to worry," she trailed off quietly, chewing on her lip.

He pressed his lips to hers gently. "Dear heart, I am the only one who gets to chew on this perfectly delectable lip." He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her lips. "I will be perfectly fine. I shall return in three days," he reassured her, his hands cupping her face.

"Good," she said. "You better be, or I'm going to find you and kick your ass all over again!" Her hands loosened and slipped around his waist beneath his coat, hugging him close. "Be careful, Albert. Please. I love you…" she trailed off again.

He chuckled again as his arms came around her, his head resting against hers. "I know," he said, tucking her safely into his arms. They stood for a moment longer then Wesker murmured, "I really do need to be going, my dear. There is a timeline which must be adhered to, unfortunately." He stepped back, tracing her cheek with his gloved fingertips. "Three days," he reminded her, then pressed a long, lingering, promising kiss to her lips, then slipped out the door, his briefcase in hand. When she heard the crunch of the gravel beneath the tires, she knew he was gone. Reaching up to brush hair from her eyes, her fingers traced the cold metal and plastic of his black sunglasses instead.

_Be safe._


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33 Mission

Ten hours on the plane trip from New Delhi to New Castle airport in England was nothing for Albert Wesker as he immersed himself in his work. He had the preliminary information on the blood samples Ada had sent him, as well as the information he had extracted from the shriveled, drunk Russian's head. His eyes scanned the screen in front of him as he compared notes on his findings. Granted, this work was going to take much longer than the short ten hours on a plane, but all the time he spent working the puzzle out meant that he would find the answer sooner rather than later.

As far as he could tell, the new outbreak was a different strain of the Las Plagas parasite, this one highly contagious. And it was currently sweeping the globe at an alarming rate. He knew there were two other types of the Las Plagas, but this one didn't seem to quite fit with the others. This one seemed more instantaneous, more aggressive. While he didn't particularly care _how_ or _why_ the population was being decimated, he cared who was behind it. Of course, his reasons were purely selfish.

He tapped a finger against his keyboard while he read the results. It had destroyed the brain stem of the dead Russian, turning it black and diseased. The medulla oblongata was also the same dead black, while the rest of the brain was slowly being taken over, a dull sickly grey. That was, until he had been decapitated.

His phone vibrated on the table next to his computer, his eyes snapping to the screen, identifying the caller. When he read the name, a slow smirk spread over his face as he snapped open the device.

"Miss Wong, what a pleasant surprise," he said, his cold voice colored with dangerous amusement.

"Hello, Wesker," she purred. "I take it my 'special delivery' was sufficient?"

Wesker took his glasses off, fixing the computer with a hard frown as he replied. "I would have rather received a full specimen, not just its' head, but it has had its uses," he replied, crossing his arms as he pressed the phone to his ear.

Ada chuckled. "A body is much harder to smuggle out of an infected zone, Wesker. I got in and out as quickly as I could with what was simple. You didn't give me a lot of time to do this, you know."

"You had more than enough time, Miss Wong. Don't lie to me. Do you remember last time you made me angry?" He paused, hearing the intake of her breath. It hadn't been a pleasant experience for her. "I don't pay you to do simple work, Miss Wong," he said coldly. "I hire you to do a complete job, no questions. I believe I pay you more than enough for that. If I had wanted a simple mission, it would have been Krauser's phone ringing, not yours. This was for brains, not muscle." His voice was sharp.

"Indeed," she murmured through the phone, trying to hide the fear in her voice.

"However," Wesker continued. "I do need more samples, although from much warmer climes. Do not fail me again, Miss Wong."

"Never fear, Albert," she purred through the phone and then disconnected the line.

Wesker ground his teeth in irritation as he refrained from smashing the phone to bits in his hands. No one who worked for him had permission to use his name. There was only one person alive who had that luxury and she sure as hell wasn't Ada Wong. He had just settled his seething brain back into his work when his phone buzzed again. Biting back a snarl of irritation, he flipped it open. When he read the sender's name, however, his frown turned into a soft, almost tender, but still a smirk.

_Be safe._

Two words were all it contained, but he knew those words spoke volumes. It felt strange to have someone looking out for his wellbeing after all these years. Even when he had first started at Umbrella, no one was looking out for Wesker except Wesker. Birkin was always too engrossed in his work to worry about anyone else much less himself. Wesker had done that for him, making sure he ate and showered at least every other day. Then Annette had taken over when he had been transferred to the STARS unit in Raccoon City. Even on the STARS team, he had looked after his team, not the other way around.

Then his fiery little redheaded Redfield had been dropped unceremoniously into his life and turned his world nearly upside down. He was a solitary man until she showed up, being too kind and warm to his icy, frozen heart. She was color where there had been none, she was life when all around him was death, she was a breath of fresh air in the stale labs he hid within. Her bright eyes, both before and after her death were nearly his undoing multiple times as she had stared up at him. She was so vibrant in his dark and dreary life. He almost snorted in derision. Hell, he was out trying to save the planet for god's sake. What had she done to him?

Smirking to himself, he continued with his work until he felt the plane descending towards the ground. Snapping his computer closed, he placed it within its padded case and clicked it shut. Shifting slightly in his seat, he placed the briefcase on the floor next to his seat, and set about polishing his glasses before he slipped them back over his burning eyes, waiting for the plane to touch down.

When it rolled smoothly into a private hangar, he stood, gathered his case, and exited the plane. He stretched slightly as he stepped into the late evening sunset streaming through the open doors, cracking his neck to one side. Outside the doors of the hangar waited a black SUV, a man standing next to the driver's side door, standing at rigid attention as Wesker strode toward him.

"Good evening, sir," the man said with military precision. He reached over to open the car door, then stood at attention once more.

Wesker chuckled silently to himself. "As you were," he drawled, placing his briefcase in the passenger seat then standing again to address the soldier standing next to him. The man's posture was nearly as straight as Wesker's for how little he relaxed. "Is everything prepared?" he asked, clasping his hands behind his back as he stared down at the man before him.

"Sir, yes sir. I personally made sure everything was exactly as you specified, sir." The man's voice never lost any of its briskness as he addressed his superior, his eyes trained before him, not looking at Wesker once.

Wesker smirked and replied, "Good. I'll be in touch." He whirled around and entered the vehicle once more, slamming the door shut behind him. The engine purred to life and he sped down the tarmac of the airport towards the gates. It was an hour drive to the northern coast of England, and from there, he would pilot a small speed boat to Spencer's private island and the Spencer Estate.

Halfway through the drive to the sea, he caught himself almost opening his mouth to ask Claire something menial, nearly forgetting that he was alone. He pursed his lips with annoyance. Forcing his mind back to the task at hand, he gripped the steering wheel tighter, pressing down on the accelerator until the needle hovered around the little 90 on the speedometer. Trees flashed past in the quickening darkness as he forced his mind to go over the samples that awaited him in his lab back at home, refocusing his mind on his work.

He rejoined reality when he pulled up to a vacant warehouse, situated against the sea. The wooden clapboard was stained from the salty air, old graffiti decorating the slowly decaying wood. Somewhere, a tin roof flapped noisily in the wind. Briefcase once more in tow, he pulled it and a black duffle bag out of the vehicle and headed towards the docks on the far side of the immense building. Bobbing in the waves on the furthest part of the wharf, he found a sleek, black speed boat. He stepped down into the watercraft, depositing the bag and his briefcase into the water-tight storage cabinet.

A twist of the key and a flick of the throttle, and Wesker was piloting the craft away from the docks and shore and towards the open ocean before him. The sun was set, the stars shining down coldly from above. He noticed, however, that the sky to the west was heavy with black clouds, flickers of lightening flashing between them, a rumble of thunder so low he couldn't hear it, but felt it deep in his chest. Not feeling partial to capsizing in the open ocean in a storm, he opened the throttle and sped away into the darkness.

For an hour, he could have been unmoving beneath the vast expanse of sky above him, stuck in an eternal loop of nothingness, but soon, his light sensitive eyes picked up a very faint shimmer on the horizon. As he grew closer to the island, the waves were getting choppy, the winds tossing his coat and hair around his dark form wildly. A small cave was at the base of the cliff for receiving supplies, and that was his goal.

He maneuvered the dark craft up to the dock and cut the motor. Pulling the duffle from the cabinet, he opened it to find his requests within. It was a black military style uniform, combat boots, and more ammunition. One could never be too careful. He changed swiftly, stowing the bag back on the boat with his computer. Once more, he slipped his coat back on over his shoulders and made his way through the mansion. The lightening flashed through the opening of the cave causing his eyes to glow brighter behind his glasses. Smirking once again, he took off towards the enormous mansion on the opposite side of the small island, flashing away beneath the turbulent skies.

When he reached a greenhouse situated on a patio twenty feet above him, he curled his legs beneath him and leapt to the surface above. He slid silently through the humid building, brushing flowering plants and vines from his shoulders as he stalked silently towards the main house, his eyes and ears alert for any sign of movement.

He stepped into a hallway just as a man was turning the corner. He was carrying a semi-automatic weapon and was dressed in black suit and tie, complete with ear piece looped around and tucked into his ear. When he saw Wesker, he lifted the gun to his shoulders and shouted, "Stop right there!", his hand going to press the button on his mic to warn the others.

Wesker nearly laughed. Grinning dangerously, he flashed down the hallway at the man, his hand sliding through the mans' chest like a hot knife through butter. The man collapsed on the floor with a gurgle of blood as Wesker stepped over him and continued down the hall towards an elevator.

Knowing Spencer, there were probably labs in the basement of the mansion, much like there were at Arklay. _Time for a taste of your own medicine, old man_, he thought viciously as he descended towards the bowels of the building. When the door dinged, signaling the arrival at their destination, he nearly laughed out loud when he stepped into the room beyond.

Rows upon rows of specimen tanks were placed carefully within this room. He noticed, however, that there were only about ten of them filled with specimen. They all looked to be the same, convincing Wesker that Spencer had been working on his own experiments. Upon further inspection, he noted that three of the tanks had been smashed open from the inside. Meaning whatever had been in them, was now loose and roaming around the facility.

And how curious that there was no staff down here, he mused as he peered through a door on the opposite side of the room. Everything was dark, no lights, no computers, no other humans. It had the feeling of abandonment to it. _How like Spencer_, Wesker thought as he studied the creatures floating in the viscous green slime of their tanks. _As soon as something goes wrong, instead of fixing it, he just abandons it._ He felt a flash of black hatred blaze through him as he strode back towards the door he had entered. Laughing to himself, he smashed open the rest of the tanks, freeing the samples within. Part of him wanted to take a sample of the specimen in front of him, but he knew that now was not the time.

Perhaps he'd send Ada again.

He returned to the elevator and ascended towards the ground level again, disgusted at the severe lack of containment for the labs below. There was nothing, literally _nothing _that would keep whatever was down there, _down there_. No security doors, no locked doors, no decontamination chambers. Nothing. He doubted that there were even cameras in the building other than for Spencer's every present spying. The lack of security here astounded him.

Once more, the lift dinged quietly and he stepped from the lift and scanned the area. It was a small hallway just off the main foyer of the mansion, the lightening flickering in through the windows, eerily lighting the room briefly. Wesker's lip curled when he saw how closely the mansion he was standing in now matched the one in the mountains of Arklay, right down to the same damn carpet up the stairs. He felt sick with the sudden déjà vu as he made his way down the darkened hall towards the foyer.

There was a man standing in the middle of the lobby, looking around for the source of the noise Wesker had made exiting the elevator. He was reaching for the radio on his belt when Wesker appeared next to him, and chuckled. "I don't think so," he purred, his knife slicing across the man's throat silently. He watched as the hot blood poured from the man's neck, but the guard didn't collapse like Wesker had expected him to. Instead, one hand clutching his throat as he gagged on his own blood, down on one knee, the other pulled the gun to his shoulder and fired at Wesker wildly. The human's blood was becoming a pool beneath him quickly.

Wesker dodged the bullets with an irritated growl, and slammed his hand into the underside of the man's chin so hard his body was thrown into the second floor walkway above them. Blood from his severed throat sprayed across the wall behind Wesker as his heart frantically pumped the last of his life into the air. His body landed on the edge of the balcony above them, his head lolling garishly from his shoulders, his dead eyes staring accusingly down at Wesker. Blood trickled down from his ears, nose and throat as he hung upside down, dripping to the floor below.

Wiping the blood from his face, he looked up and saw another man just entering the room, coming to investigate the sound of the gunfire. Instantly, Wesker flashed up the stairs and, when the man turned to face him, Wesker smirked down at him dangerously over his sunglasses, his eyes glowing a demonic red as he plunged his hand through the man's chest. _Human flesh was so weak_, he mused absently as he pushed the carcass from his arm, his glove and coat sleeve becoming soaked with blood.

Behind him was a large door with an access panel on it. Striding towards the door, he kicked it open forcefully, the doors slamming into the walls behind them with a sound like a gunshot, lightening flickering behind him. As he walked past the access panel, he put his fist through it, almost like an afterthought, then threw the doors shut behind him, effectively sealing the door for good.

He stalked down the long hallway, bare but for the iron candelabras that hung between the tall windows towering over him as he encountered three more of Spencer's personal guard. They all opened fire on him at once but he was too fast for them. One man went down silently as Wesker's hand speared through his chest, his blood pooling on the floor beneath the combatants. Another man was lucky enough to get a bullet through the head, between his eyes as he slid down the wall, eyes unseeing. The last man slapped clip after clip into his gun, never once coming remotely close to hitting Wesker as he flashed down the hall.

"You can run, but you can't hide," he said, his voice like ice as he strode toward the man, his eyes blazing like miniature suns behind his sunglasses. The guard tripped over his own feet as he retreated, frantically searching his pockets for more clips of ammunition. He turned up empty and Wesker saw the naked terror in the man's face as he approached.

Wesker had his hand around the man's neck when he reached down and shakily drew a knife from his boot, attempting to drive it into Wesker's skull. Wesker sneered at him and clenched his hand around the man's throat, crushing his windpipe, esophagus and spine to soup. The man drown in his own bodily fluids. He dropped the body to the floor unceremoniously. Before him were two massive oak doors, ornate with heavy metal hinges and door knobs, and definitely not out of place in this medieval castle.

Smirking once more, he kicked open the doors and let himself in, the lightening flashing dangerously through the tall windows behind him and across the enormous room in front of him.

"You're back," an old, tired, worn out voice wheezed, sounding all entirely too pleased.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34 Struggle

"You're back," the old voice wheezed, then collapsed into a fit of coughing.

Wesker's shaded eyes landed on a pathetic sight. Ozwell E. Spencer, founder of Umbrella, the world's largest pharmaceutical company in the world, was slowly rotting away and there was nothing modern medicine could do to stop it. The man was hunched over in a wheelchair, a tube in his nose and another taped to the side of his head, a thick IV stuck in his thin arm, his hair floating around his head in wisps. Wesker could hear the rattle in the old man's lungs as he struggled to breathe. The man was wrapped in a luxurious robe and decadent slippers on his feet. In the turgid silence between them, the machines attached to his wheelchair whirred and clicked, beeping occasionally, small lights flashing in the darkness.

Wesker, with his far superior senses, could smell the stench of death and decay on him. It was a sweetly sickening smell, cloying, as it hung it the air around Spencer. His skin looked moist and thin, like flesh left in water much too long, like something dead. His skin drooped from his frame; thick blue veins crawled beneath his skin giving him a perpetually bruised look. His thin lips were cracked and dry as he struggled to breathe. The man literally reeked of death.

Spencer chuckled dryly, the sound petering out into a hacking cough that left the elderly man gasping for air, his face red and blotchy from the strain. Wesker's lip curled minutely in disgust as he silently stalked towards him, his eyes glowing faintly in the blinding flash of the lightening. Even if he couldn't catch any known disease, the thought of coming near the dying man made him feel dirty. The air around them nearly crackled with electricity, not quite all of it from the storm raging outside the estate either. Spencer looked up at him, fixing Wesker with a gaze as cold as his own was hot, his watery eyes intense through the gummy mucus built up in them.

"So why are you here, Albert Wesker?" Spencer spat the blonde's name, his breath wheezing out of his lungs. He forced himself not to cough as he inhaled deeply once again, his watery eyes never leaving Wesker's face. His hands shook on the metal arms of his chair, though Wesker didn't know if it was from nerves or from dying.

Wesker smirked at him, adjusting his sunglasses. "I believe we both know why I am here, Spencer," he drawled, his eyes burning behind his shades. He circled the man in the wheelchair, much like a predator waiting for its prey to die, his hands clasped behind his back. Wesker's grin grew dangerously thin as the old man eyed him uncomfortably, unable to keep his eyes on him as Wesker circled behind his back, the predatory smile even wider. He knew he was making the old man uncomfortable, but this wasn't going to be comfortable, was it?

Spencer's lip curled in a sneer as Wesker walked in front of him again. "You think that I'm the one killing off humanity, don't you?" His voice was wet sounding.

Wesker said nothing, his eyes burning though his dark glasses as the lightening flashed behind him, his teeth bared in a bone-chilling smile. He stood in front of the tall window that overlooked the sea, the rain pelting the cold glass as the lightening split the air, his back to the old man. He felt faintly triumphant as he looked out over the raging sea.

The old man chuckled slightly, then coughed wetly. "You are correct, Albert," he said once he could breathe again. Wesker's grin widened imperceptibly, his eyes glowing brighter in the darkness. "But you are also wrong."

Frowning, the blonde Tyrant turned to stare at the back of the old man's head as he wheezed once again. He didn't like to be told he was wrong. How else had he made it so far in his life? "No, I don't believe I am, old man." His voice was like silver shards of ice.

Spencer laughed again. "'Old man.' Exactly. How do you expect an old man who can barely feed himself to be conducting experiments and starting a global pandemic? Oh, it's my experiment alright. All the research happened before I was confined to this damnable machine. But I'm not the one who is doing the experimenting," he cackled, then gagged again. The coughing shook the chair as he struggled to catch his breath once again. He leaned forward, trying to inhale and muttered under his breath; "I haven't been to the south seas in ages. Alex had better finish his experiments soon."

Wesker's sharp ears picked up the words 'south sea' and something he thought sounded like the name 'Alex'. Spencer straightened in his chair once again, wiping his lips on the crusty sleeve of his velveteen robe. "You are not a scientist, Spencer," Wesker spat, his fist clenching, making the leather of his gloves squeak. "Quit trying to be one. Why are you experimenting with something you know nothing about?" Spencer snorted. Wesker's lip curled in disgust. "You should be dead. Quit trying to prolong the inevitable, or I shall be more than delighted to help you along."

"The weak will always resist the will of the chosen. It's easy for you to say, now that you're no longer human, Albert Wesker. You who can never die. I know what that virus did to you; it was the same thing that was supposed to happen to me! You had no right taking what was mine," Spencer paused, gathering his breath. "You were supposed to be my crowning achievement! You and the rest of the Wesker children! You were supposed to be the experiment that turned _me_ into a god! But instead, I'm stuck in this rotting, dying corpse while you lord yourself over me." His rant was cut off as he coughed once more, his throat convulsing as he tried to breathe. Wesker just watched, stalking around the man as he struggled to breathe, his eyes as hot and unforgiving as molten lava. He hoped the old man coughed himself to death, preferably after he got the information he was looking for, but either way was acceptable.

When Spencer could breathe again, the old man's voice was raspy and low. "The new superior breed of humans, given birth by the Progenitor virus." He wheezed in a breath then continued speaking. "The Wesker Children were entrusted with endless potential. Of them, only one survived." Wesker stopped by the window once again. "You," Spencer spat, sounding disgusted.

"Are you saying I was manufactured?" he asked coldly, speaking over his shoulder as his eyes blazed furiously in the darkness. The lightening flashed outside the window as he spoke.

Spencer ignored him. "I was to become a god," he wheezed, coughing a few times, falling back into his chair before continuing. "Creating a new world with an advanced race of human beings. However, all was lost with Raccoon City." Wesker's jaw clenched as the leather in his gloves squeaked under the stress, his eyes burning in the lightening. "Despite that setback, your creation still holds great significance." He coughed again. His voice was weaker when he spoke this time. "Now my candle burns dimly." He groaned as he shakily got to his feet, his hand pressed against his aching hip as it supported his weight. The tubes that had connected him to the chair swung freely from his wrist and temple. "Ironic, isn't it? For one who has the right to be a god!" Spencer turned around to face Wesker who had come to stand behind him. "To face his own mortality," he trailed off when he saw the look on the blonde's face.

Wesker grinned down at him, his voice sharp and arrogant. "The right to be a god…" he mused, one hand slowly settling on Spencer's shoulder, almost like a friendly gesture. Then all Spencer could feel was white hot agony radiating from his chest. Gasping, he looked down to see the Tyrant's hand on his chest. Not _on_ his chest so much as _through _his chest. Spencer could only stare at him as he felt his life's blood pumping from his chest down the man's arm. Wesker pulled him closer, feeling the old man's fading, dying heartbeat against his arm, his lips near the old man's sweaty white hair. "That right is now mine." Spencer heard every word as his vision faded into darkness. The pain was excruciating.

The blonde wrenched his hand from Spencer's chest as white lightening split the air again, blood spattering the floor and the front of Wesker's coat, the sleeve soaked once more. Spencer fell to his knees, gasping for breath, clutching at his ruined ribs. Wesker grinned again as he watched the old man slowly fall backwards down the shallow step, roll once and lay still, blood trickling from his mouth to puddle on the floor beneath him.

"The right to be a god?" Wesker scoffed, his lip curled in disgust as he stared at the pathetic form on the floor before him. "You? Arrogant even until the end. Only one truly capable of _being_ a god deserves that right," he murmured as he turned back to stare out the window at the storm, ignoring the drying sticky blood that ran down his wrist into his black glove. He should leave soon. Claire would be waiting for him he knew, and he wanted to surprise her and be home when she wasn't expecting him. A genuine smile, although small, crossed his lips, his eyes flaring gold for a moment. How she would love to lie in front of this window, perched over the malevolent waves as the storm raged across the ocean. He could almost see her naked, lithe form sprawled in front of the glass, her hair tumbling riotously around her face as she stared up at him, her eyes glowing with that inner green fire that nearly took his breath away.

Suddenly, the doors behind him flew open. He heard a sharp intake of breath as he turned to face his intruders, a ruthless smirk on his face. Somehow, he wasn't surprised to see Jill Valentine standing there, but Chris Redfield, now that was a surprise. Wasn't he supposed to be dead? Wesker was more than happy to rectify the situation as the two B.S.A.A. agents fired at him.

He nearly laughed as he dodged the first bullet, feinting to the right, the second bullet he ducked to the left. As the third whizzed towards him, he dropped to his right knee, then lunged left as he dodged another from Jill's gun, then missed her next one by charging towards Chris, an animalistic growl emanating from his lips. He grabbed Chris's gun and twisted it out of his hand as he swung a punch at his face, feeling the small bones in his nose shatter beneath his fist. Chris shouted in pain as blood blossomed from his nose down his face. Unrelenting, Wesker elbowed him in the gut and when he bent to clutch his seizing muscles, the blonde slammed his palm into Chris's chin, sending him sprawling on his back.

Jill fired at him again and groaned as Wesker zigzagged across the room, completely missing all three shots. _I thought I had taught them better than this_, he thought as he grasped Jill's throat and slammed her against the wall six feet in the air. She dropped her gun to the floor as his hand tightened, her hands scrabbling frantically against the blood-soaked fabric of his coat, making gurgling sounds in her throat as she tried to breathe.

From the corner of his eye, Wesker saw Chris trying to take advantage of his distraction by swinging at the side of his head, but he dropped Jill to the ground and ducked back away from the incoming fist. Jill landed on the floor, gagging, as Chris tried to swing his other fist at Wesker, but he just stepped back again, the smirk twisting his lips. Once more, Chris tried to punch him in the face, but this time he caught it. Chris gave him a slightly panicked look which only made his smirk wider. He twisted Chris's arm around, spinning him around.

Slightly dizzied, Chris stood for a moment, but that moment cost him as Wesker's palm smashed into his bloody face yet again. He stumbled back, hand covering his face, and tried to spin a kick into the side of Wesker's head. Once again, Wesker caught the attack as Jill tried to shoot him from across the room, her bullets failing to find their mark. Chuckling silently to himself, he flashed out of vision only to reappear behind Chris and shove him off balance.

"Ignorant cretins," he growled, ripping his gun from beneath his arm, firing two shots at Jill but she managed to hide behind one of the stone pillars before she got hit. "I expected more from you." Jill fired at him again. Wesker dropped to his left knee as one flew over his shoulder, then he lunged to the right to avoid the second one but he felt it lodge into his shoulder. Growling in pain, he whipped around to face them.

But, as he landed, one more bullet was coming straight for his face. He jumped into the air and twisted around, his coat flaring out around him as he spun horizontally, then landed soundlessly, whipping around to meet his former team once again. He could hear the telltale thunk of Jill's gun jamming, and she threw it away from her. Chris fired at him, this time he managed to sink a bullet into Wesker's chest. It hurt, but it was an inconvenience, nothing more.

With a grunt of effort, Chris once again tried to smash Wesker's face with his fist, but Wesker caught it and returned the favor, blood spattering his fist as it connected with the man's face. Out of the corner of his eye, Wesker saw Jill draw her knife and charge towards him. He clamped down on her wrist and slammed his palm into her chest sending her flying across the room to slam into one of the tall bookcases that covered the walls. She crumpled into a heaving heap at the bottom of the oak shelves.

"Jill!" Chris shouted, attempting to punch Wesker yet again, which he easily evaded. He blocked the next swing, then guided the third past him so he could slip under Chris's guard and savagely elbow him in the stomach. When the marksman bent over yet again to comfort his seizing muscles, Wesker flashed out and back into vision, and clamped his hand around Chris's throat. Oh, did this feel good. Albert Wesker would not be denied his revenge, especially now that he had gotten a second chance.

Wesker lifted the heavily muscled man into the air, his hand still clenched around Chris's throat and slammed him onto a heavy oak table, dragging him mercilessly across the unforgiving wood, an animalistic growl emanating from his lips. Chris howled in agony as the wood tore into his shirt and into his flesh, his hands scrabbling frantically on Wesker's wrist as he threw the man across the room. He landed in a heap on the floor beneath the tall windows looking out onto the sea behind the now empty wheelchair of Spencer.

He could hear Jill gasping for breath still as he stalked towards Chris, his hand clenched to spear through the Redfield brother's chest. Wesker towered over the man for a moment, relishing in the naked fear that crossed Chris's face, his eyes glowing with the crimson hellish light. Reaching down, he grabbed the marksman's shoulder and lifted him off the floor, his thumb digging into the skin mercilessly, nearly breaking the skin. Chris bit back a scream as his former captain's hand tightened painfully, all his weight suspended in Wesker's one hand.

"Let's finish this," Wesker growled, pulling his free hand back, stiffening it to plunge through the man's chest, his eyes burning hellishly, his voice like ice. Across the room, he heard Jill gasp.

"NO!" she screamed hoarsely, still fighting to get her breath back. She stood and tore across the room towards the struggling men, wrapping her arms around the tall, blonde Tyrant, her knife in her hand. She smiled with sick pleasure when she felt the blade sink into his soft flesh, uncaring where it damaged him. Then she was aware that she was falling. Instinctively, she reached out and caught hold of something as she plummeted past. Her shoulder was nearly wrenched from its socket as she caught herself on an outcropping of rock.

"JILL!" Chris screamed as he watched both Wesker and Jill topple out the window in slow motion. He ran to the window. "JILL!" He was almost afraid to look down, fearful of what he might see. Steeling himself, he looked out the broken window, rain splashing on his face and running down his arms and neck. The relief on his face was palpable as he saw her dangling about fifteen feet below the window, Wesker nowhere in sight.

"Hold on! I'll save you!" Chris yelled, stepping back into the room. He wrenched one of the long curtains from the window and lowered it down to her. "Grab on!"

She wrapped her free arm around the length of sodden fabric and felt relief welling up as she peered down into the darkness, hunting for a flash of red eyes and blonde hair. She saw nothing. When she reached the broken window, Chris's strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her to his chest, his arms like iron around her.

"It's over," she whispered, wrapping her arms around the big man in front of her. "It's finally over…"

* * *

Wesker hadn't felt pain like this since he was human. The wind whistled through his ears as he plummeted down towards the rocky shore. One hand was clasped over his right eye socket, blood pouring from between his fingers. Jill had managed to sink her knife into his eye, gouging it out as she tackled him out the window. The icy rain and billowing winds tore at his coat and hair as he fell, soaking him to the skin. Lightening flashed around him and thunder boomed in his ears.

_Claire…_

Her face was before him, her eyes blazing emerald with the love she bore him, a soft, sweet smile on her tender lips. Her hair was floating around her face and although he couldn't hear the words she was saying, his cold heart knew, warming with the knowledge.

_I love you, Albert._

Then suddenly, the ground was there and he knew no more.

* * *

**A/N**: Once again, I am having problems with my writing software... And I shall keep reminding you, _I have not given up on this story_! Not in the least! I've been supremely busy and, like I said, my writing program hasn't been working. Please me patient with me while I try to figure this stupid thing out...

Thank you to all my faithful readers!

Lady Anwe


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